(no subject)
it's funny that i'd forget these drives. the slow, stretched out glides through a sleeping town. the empty roads, the tired eyes, taking every long route home i can think of, every back road i can think of, dragging out every moment into all that i can. breathing deep. slowing to near stops on the darkest stretch between kyle's house and mine, just to make the horizon rise a little slower. just so the sky can stay this big a little longer. a yellow half moon pasted onto a black sky, almost like it's just floating up there- just hanging, with nothing holding it up. the tape i made for kali (but can't seem to find a way to give up) on repeat for five days now, hearing it like a journal. like a friend who doesnt mind reminding me of everything i need to hear, over and over, until i can finally just feel ok. cat power filling the air, my own voice fading in and out as if my strength and vunerability are fighting for the space. breaks of silence between songs, sounding louder, more complex, as i go. mapping everything out in my head to be sure there's no more backroads, no more alleyway, no more lakes, that have been left without a visit.
it's funny that after all this time, home still makes me feel this way. that i still get that first date feeling of floating on air after a night of swimming with my oldest friends. watching kyle piss his pants, or naked on his back and all over himself, just to make himself laugh, or throw knives into his parents' living room wall just for the hell of it. laughing until we cry. but it's not just the stupid shit everyone does. it's not just us running around naked and splashing and yelling at two in the morning, or having costumed pool parties. it's the fact that we can do anything. we can let everything show. it's like breathing. i don't think about my words, they just come. movements just happen. smiles and laughter fucking leap out of us and it never even hits us that it's happening. there's no choice to stop it or create it. there's no internal dialogue, there's no catching up or slowing down. we just are. we just happen.
and i'm not sure what it is about this town at night, but for some reason, everything still feels like a secret that you've stumbled onto. well kept and full of wonder. full of life. like new worlds hiding around every corner. there's still romance in empty streets and alleyways. in brick roads and streetlights. in sneaking into the gardens, sitting by lakes, riding my bike to the top of parking garages just to see the city. overlooking the lake from downtown side, the lights and the reflection and the ripples on water. the way it looks like everything is going up in flames. the way the colors dance and feel like they are overtaking everything. the train tracks, the whistles, the smashed coins. the way that the whole fucking road sparkles when you ride a block up from and parallel to the train tracks towards lake mirror, away from the park.
here, i just feel like there is so much life to be found, everywhere. sometimes like it's swallowing me. and while the city sleeps, it still feels like it is all ours for the taking. like it's there for anyone to take, to be whatever we want it to be. like life and age and experience haven't stripped the magic out of everything yet. like there is still adventure and excitement to be found wherever you look, if you just pay enough attention.
and i'm sure it sounds naive, and i feel so repetitive. it's been years and i'm still saying the same fucking things. but i just can't get it out my head. the amount of life and energy that are surrounding us at all times, the millions of colors, textures, smells, sounds. worlds inside of worlds. the way we see things in still frames, in one dimensional snapshots, lumping everything together, that make everything seem so sterile and lifeless. the world as scenery, as a backdrop to getting from here to there. so seldom are we surrounded, enveloped, overtaken. so seldom are we connected, in touch with. noticing the endless detail every inch, of every foot, of every yard, and so on.
and on quiet rides home, these are things i remember. i pick apart the sounds, and remember that even in silence, there is so much sound, so many sounds. and in the music, there is so much i forget, and take for granted. and in the same way that with my friends, when actions come like breathing, no premeditation or thought given, it's still important to slow down and be conscience enough to embrace our moments, to not forget to see the beauty in moments the just happen, and leap out of us- so it goes with our breaths. as regular as they may be, as little outside interference as they need to continue on, it's so important to embrace them, to love them, to be enveloped and immersed in them. to remember how many millions of things have to fall into place in order for them take place. to feel their processes flowing through you, to feel every detail you can.
and so it goes with everything.
it's funny that after all this time, home still makes me feel this way. that i still get that first date feeling of floating on air after a night of swimming with my oldest friends. watching kyle piss his pants, or naked on his back and all over himself, just to make himself laugh, or throw knives into his parents' living room wall just for the hell of it. laughing until we cry. but it's not just the stupid shit everyone does. it's not just us running around naked and splashing and yelling at two in the morning, or having costumed pool parties. it's the fact that we can do anything. we can let everything show. it's like breathing. i don't think about my words, they just come. movements just happen. smiles and laughter fucking leap out of us and it never even hits us that it's happening. there's no choice to stop it or create it. there's no internal dialogue, there's no catching up or slowing down. we just are. we just happen.
and i'm not sure what it is about this town at night, but for some reason, everything still feels like a secret that you've stumbled onto. well kept and full of wonder. full of life. like new worlds hiding around every corner. there's still romance in empty streets and alleyways. in brick roads and streetlights. in sneaking into the gardens, sitting by lakes, riding my bike to the top of parking garages just to see the city. overlooking the lake from downtown side, the lights and the reflection and the ripples on water. the way it looks like everything is going up in flames. the way the colors dance and feel like they are overtaking everything. the train tracks, the whistles, the smashed coins. the way that the whole fucking road sparkles when you ride a block up from and parallel to the train tracks towards lake mirror, away from the park.
here, i just feel like there is so much life to be found, everywhere. sometimes like it's swallowing me. and while the city sleeps, it still feels like it is all ours for the taking. like it's there for anyone to take, to be whatever we want it to be. like life and age and experience haven't stripped the magic out of everything yet. like there is still adventure and excitement to be found wherever you look, if you just pay enough attention.
and i'm sure it sounds naive, and i feel so repetitive. it's been years and i'm still saying the same fucking things. but i just can't get it out my head. the amount of life and energy that are surrounding us at all times, the millions of colors, textures, smells, sounds. worlds inside of worlds. the way we see things in still frames, in one dimensional snapshots, lumping everything together, that make everything seem so sterile and lifeless. the world as scenery, as a backdrop to getting from here to there. so seldom are we surrounded, enveloped, overtaken. so seldom are we connected, in touch with. noticing the endless detail every inch, of every foot, of every yard, and so on.
and on quiet rides home, these are things i remember. i pick apart the sounds, and remember that even in silence, there is so much sound, so many sounds. and in the music, there is so much i forget, and take for granted. and in the same way that with my friends, when actions come like breathing, no premeditation or thought given, it's still important to slow down and be conscience enough to embrace our moments, to not forget to see the beauty in moments the just happen, and leap out of us- so it goes with our breaths. as regular as they may be, as little outside interference as they need to continue on, it's so important to embrace them, to love them, to be enveloped and immersed in them. to remember how many millions of things have to fall into place in order for them take place. to feel their processes flowing through you, to feel every detail you can.
and so it goes with everything.