(no subject)
talking with someone awhile about love. seeing a few pertainings on/about love. a morning, a night, an afternoon, a life to ruminate, posit, stew, accept, deny, mull over, affirm, ascertain, acquiesce, acquaint, acquire. know, not.
i have spent my last year learning love. i have learned much and i have much to learn.
last night i pulled out an old letter. i sent it maybe..well, perhaps 8 months ago. it was a very beautiful letter, a very mean one. i was perhaps very beautiful and mean at the time. for all i know, it was received and read. whether this is true, i will never know, and i never hope to.
i also pulled out a play i wrote, that i have been writing for perhaps 12 months now. it was and still is hopefully a very good play. i remember starting it under the guise of a person, adapting it in the fragmented haze of another, annihilating its worth after the hard hit of one more, and finally letting it rest neath the shade of a lamp, its dimly lit shadow casting a palor that read "inspired softly by No One."
i also watched "Pride and Prejudice" and shed a tear or four.
i don't know why love makes people so sad. i don't know why it makes people so happy. all i know is i am happy inexplicably now, where i was once sad and empty. and the Thing will ebb and flow as it has for all time. and i must not sit and wait for the time that comes (in gradual shifting, in absence, in fracture, in death) when so much loveliness is before me as i am now writing.
i have spent my last year learning love. i have learned much and i have much to learn.
last night i pulled out an old letter. i sent it maybe..well, perhaps 8 months ago. it was a very beautiful letter, a very mean one. i was perhaps very beautiful and mean at the time. for all i know, it was received and read. whether this is true, i will never know, and i never hope to.
i also pulled out a play i wrote, that i have been writing for perhaps 12 months now. it was and still is hopefully a very good play. i remember starting it under the guise of a person, adapting it in the fragmented haze of another, annihilating its worth after the hard hit of one more, and finally letting it rest neath the shade of a lamp, its dimly lit shadow casting a palor that read "inspired softly by No One."
i also watched "Pride and Prejudice" and shed a tear or four.
i don't know why love makes people so sad. i don't know why it makes people so happy. all i know is i am happy inexplicably now, where i was once sad and empty. and the Thing will ebb and flow as it has for all time. and i must not sit and wait for the time that comes (in gradual shifting, in absence, in fracture, in death) when so much loveliness is before me as i am now writing.