Inside Out and blown white in the wind
I imagine I have had a very internal life. I am inside this place looking out and always remembering that I am in here alone. You can not join me in here. That is why there is Jeffrey, a muse to speak with without the difficulty of words. Stories are created out of words but at the same time the scribing ruins them. There is always a misplaced comma and a lack of perfect communication. But we get closer to it in fiction than anywhere else... because there is the distance of persona there.
I see my aloneness in the office. It doesn't bother me most days. This week it has but, so it goes... I am younger than everyone else by at least 7 years. My nearest contemuary is part of a different generation, has different childhood memories. But even then. I know the music and crafts that my older coworkers talk about. I am more familar with the trends of 50 years ago then today, but am also firmly rooted in the technology era. I don't remember life without a computer. I went to my mother's office as a child and "played" on her "quaint" electronic typewriter. I have never been without spell check. I don't know who the stars our. Jennifer (the 29 year old) mentions an actor as hot and I have no idea. I am half the age of everyone else in the office. I occasionally get the "oh you don't know because you don't have kids" dismissial. I don't think I care. I live in moments of magic, of wind and movement and words, beautiful utterly words.
I do live alone in a lot of ways. There are very few that make it into the inner santumum, and from there is crypts, and vaults, and characters who I become in my dreams...
Yesterday I carved a stone for Brandy's burial site. Spent hours bent over a rock with my dremel and a print out. Broke about a dozen bits. I the end there it sat, a Brandy colored rock. On my mp3 player came on the song I Grieve by Peter Gabriel. I stood looking over my work, a white rag in my hand, blowing in a gentle wind.
it was only one hour ago it was all so different then there’s nothing yet has really sunk in looks like it always did this flesh and bone is just the way that we are tied in now there's no-one home... the news that truly shocks is the empty, empty page while the final rattle rocks its empty, empty cage and i can't handle this... let it out and move on missing what's gone they say life carries on they say life carries on and on and on
life carries on in the people i meet in everyone that's out on the street in all the dogs and cats in the flies and rats in the rot and the rust in the ashes and the dust life carries on and on and on and on life carries on and on and on
I see my aloneness in the office. It doesn't bother me most days. This week it has but, so it goes... I am younger than everyone else by at least 7 years. My nearest contemuary is part of a different generation, has different childhood memories. But even then. I know the music and crafts that my older coworkers talk about. I am more familar with the trends of 50 years ago then today, but am also firmly rooted in the technology era. I don't remember life without a computer. I went to my mother's office as a child and "played" on her "quaint" electronic typewriter. I have never been without spell check. I don't know who the stars our. Jennifer (the 29 year old) mentions an actor as hot and I have no idea. I am half the age of everyone else in the office. I occasionally get the "oh you don't know because you don't have kids" dismissial. I don't think I care. I live in moments of magic, of wind and movement and words, beautiful utterly words.
I do live alone in a lot of ways. There are very few that make it into the inner santumum, and from there is crypts, and vaults, and characters who I become in my dreams...
Yesterday I carved a stone for Brandy's burial site. Spent hours bent over a rock with my dremel and a print out. Broke about a dozen bits. I the end there it sat, a Brandy colored rock. On my mp3 player came on the song I Grieve by Peter Gabriel. I stood looking over my work, a white rag in my hand, blowing in a gentle wind.
it was only one hour ago it was all so different then there’s nothing yet has really sunk in looks like it always did this flesh and bone is just the way that we are tied in now there's no-one home... the news that truly shocks is the empty, empty page while the final rattle rocks its empty, empty cage and i can't handle this... let it out and move on missing what's gone they say life carries on they say life carries on and on and on
life carries on in the people i meet in everyone that's out on the street in all the dogs and cats in the flies and rats in the rot and the rust in the ashes and the dust life carries on and on and on and on life carries on and on and on