without thinking
i profess that i like egg yolks
and find that
whites are redundant

it represented
an addiction
something bad
i keep going back to
you know this too well

so you suggested a change
'try scrambled eggs'

as i steadily slide
the last of my whites
'but', i finally said
to the far end of my island
'they're so hard to find'
closer to you

in the silence
a thought swam to shore
how eggs are meant for
the start of days
not
the end of metaphors

wrote this in an email last week
and want to remember it

'loss of luminosity'
... to answer your question, i haven't been writing much lately. i used to indulge in writing when i
had the luxury of time, mostly about lovers then, the suns of my old universe, unfortunately
because i think it is the only way i could express my sadness and desperation. or simply, to pick
apart the flesh from bone ...

ryan mcginley, 'sigur ros' series

wrote a quick thought-stream like poem tonight while
sonia sleeps soundly on my bed
i like it
the quiet company, the heartbeat on my bedsheet


'hole'
by erny melissa

untangling myself from your sweet solace
enchanted endlessly by solitude’s grace
the first few months i laid in bed
unwilling, willowing, de-framing our gate

remembering, briefly, how sweetly it flowed
the liquidation beaming on your thin clothes
but two halves made a catastrophic hole
two hearts beating a tune so old

i tried to cast my eyes and see
how the glittering unknown will take on me
adjourning a date
a clean little slate:
simplify me politely when i’m dead.

i weighed myself at the orthodontist last week
as though the numbers disappeared from between my ears
in the shower i used more shampoo than you've ever let me
thinking about a passage i read on the train
the chronology of yuknavitch and what she believed
'in water, like in books—you can leave your life'
rinse and repeat, prepare for the dive
in a swift uplifting rush, a feeling sown deep
screaming 'I AM NOT HERE AND I DO NOT SLEEP'

i slip through the cracks into the darkest hole in the wall
relieving myself of feelings and more importantly, the gall

there's banging on the wall it's 5am i've got no sleep at all, just thoughts of how i might struggle through tomorrow. too much time in one day too much time to occupy with boring thoughts, boring moods, boring bedtimes. won't tell a single soul that my soul's gone, it's hard to write this song it's all a joke it's all been wrote down by someone that's probably dead. i might be leaving soon. there's laughter from below it's 1am how could you have known, the thoughts of silence that keep me from going back to sleep at night. wish i could call someone i love to stop thinking of myself long look in the mirror, just look so empty. you were right i can't do this i'm going crazy it's fine by me now you can see how much i've become empty. i might be leaving soon. my dreams full of what's not real. i'll fly away and save the world i'll make you proud someday. i just won't be around to see your face. my life is full of what's not here. i'll fly away and save myself i'll make you proud someday. i just won't be around to see your face.

'steadier footing'
by death cab for cutie



it's gotten late and now i want to be alone
all of our friends were here, they all have gone home
and here i sit on the front porch
watching the drunks stumble forth into the night
"you gave me a heart attack, i did not see you there.
i thought you had disappeared so early away from here."
and this is the chance i never got to make a move
but we just talk about the people we've met in the last five years
and will we remember them in ten more?
i let you bum a smoke, you quit this winter past
i've tried twice before, but like this, it just will not last

da-da-dum da-da-dum da-da-dun-dum

—



last night sonia and i came to a fairly reasonable conclusion that we could potentially listen to 'steadier footing' repeatedly for a really long time and not once get sick of it. 11 lines of pure brilliance. a few chords. one message. an entire spectrum of emotions that are terrible, nostalgic, hopeful, overwhelming, beautiful, etc. via your own discretion or 'status of being'.

the impetus of life is not love—it is understanding the basic fundamentals of love. what you love is who you are and who you are, is not unhappy. never compromise. it is okay and may i add , important, to have standards. never let anyone or anything break the wall of morals, values, principles and love that you have built around yourself with your bare hands. you are worth as much as you give yourself.

sonia is immensely sensible and sure and intelligent, sometimes i feel inadequately feeble in character in comparison. i hope you know how significant your existence is in my life. i am grateful for your greater perspectives, for keeping me grounded, for telling the truth, for having faith in me, for investing time and care and love into our friendship. one day you will change people's lives by listening and talking to them. like you have already done for some of us. for me. 'you, me, and five bucks'. always.

she's taught me, and now i live by, three words: 'don't not know'
simple—yet relevant to all reveries and resolute.

here i am typing aimlessly into this box when instead i should really be doing my research but i find it extremely motivating to write out my thoughts all the time. it is also very therapeutic. this weekend takes the form of the current weather, with prospects of sunshine and happiness with the looming grey cloud at every corner. i've always loved weddings and i'm terribly excited for this one in particular. there is nothing like the warm fuzzy feeling of witnessing a union between two individuals (and in turn makes you feel like the loneliest person in the world). but i'm okay. we're all okay. it is december and vampire weekend suggests we drink horchata and look psychotic in our balaclavas. maybe i will. maybe i will also stop listening to azure ray's november because it is possibly the most beautifully depressing song. ok off to meet my sonia darling so i'll end this with a quote i find really meaningful and adore endlessly.


"When you’re a teenager and in your early twenties it seems desperately eternal and excruciatingly painful. Whereas as you grow older
you realise that most things are excruciatingly painful and that is the human condition. Most of us continue to survive because we’re
convinced that somewhere along the line, with grit and determination and perseverance, we will end up in some magical union with some-
body. It’s a fallacy, of course, but it’s a form of religion. You have to believe. There is a light that never goes out and it’s called hope."

—Morrissey, "I've always felt like an exile" by Andrew Billen in The Times (30th May 2006)