please don't eat me! . . . I love you.
For ¡d, for S, for C, for A, for L, for M, for J . . .
Fool enough to almost be it,
Cool enough to not quite see it.
Doomed.
So I only decide to write when I'm feeling all sappy. Well, I'm trying to be less quiet, and today's a day I felt being less quiet. Maybe for good reason. Better reason than usual, I suppose. I have been quiet, and it's been for a reason. A reason the above-named know very well. But that's not what this is about.
This is about the realization of all things one has. This one, in particular. Something happened tonight as I stood at St. Clair station waiting for the streetcar in the most quiet, light, beautiful urban snowfall I'd experienced in some time. The evening transpired just so, tonight. Lately, I've been over a hump and taking stock of things. Feeling very thankful, and just a tad lazy . . . but mostly thankful. Something came together for me tonight, such that it compelled me to sit here and write a while. I came away with a few things . . . realizations and optimism . . . and material.
Pick your pockets full of sorrow,
Run away with me tomorrow.
June.
I own something that was a product of a certain kind of . . . attention. "Attention" is the wrong word, though. Some took my inane chatter and simple amusement and turned it into something else. My endless harping on something that was quite stupid was not met with the expected guffaws. Thanks, kids. That one meant more than you know or more than I'd care to admit.
And I fail.
When I can,
I will.
The social part of the evening was a lovely dinner spent reflecting and reminiscing. Taking stock and being thankful. Talking about a circle that's becoming tighter, but with a desire to broaden it in new directions . . . to expand, to share. To better oneself by helping others.
Mother weep the years I'm missing.
All our time can't be given
back.
I look forward to what this year is going to bring. A new start, a new home, a new way of being out there. But the same me. I guess I'm fortunate to know who I am and what I want from life. Just the simple things. Just the one thing I'm missing.
For D . . .
I can't say anything that you haven't said better yourself all that time ago. Just never forget the warm nights under the flicker.
Fool enough to almost be it,
Cool enough to not quite see it.
Doomed.
So I only decide to write when I'm feeling all sappy. Well, I'm trying to be less quiet, and today's a day I felt being less quiet. Maybe for good reason. Better reason than usual, I suppose. I have been quiet, and it's been for a reason. A reason the above-named know very well. But that's not what this is about.
This is about the realization of all things one has. This one, in particular. Something happened tonight as I stood at St. Clair station waiting for the streetcar in the most quiet, light, beautiful urban snowfall I'd experienced in some time. The evening transpired just so, tonight. Lately, I've been over a hump and taking stock of things. Feeling very thankful, and just a tad lazy . . . but mostly thankful. Something came together for me tonight, such that it compelled me to sit here and write a while. I came away with a few things . . . realizations and optimism . . . and material.
Pick your pockets full of sorrow,
Run away with me tomorrow.
June.
I own something that was a product of a certain kind of . . . attention. "Attention" is the wrong word, though. Some took my inane chatter and simple amusement and turned it into something else. My endless harping on something that was quite stupid was not met with the expected guffaws. Thanks, kids. That one meant more than you know or more than I'd care to admit.
And I fail.
When I can,
I will.
The social part of the evening was a lovely dinner spent reflecting and reminiscing. Taking stock and being thankful. Talking about a circle that's becoming tighter, but with a desire to broaden it in new directions . . . to expand, to share. To better oneself by helping others.
Mother weep the years I'm missing.
All our time can't be given
back.
I look forward to what this year is going to bring. A new start, a new home, a new way of being out there. But the same me. I guess I'm fortunate to know who I am and what I want from life. Just the simple things. Just the one thing I'm missing.
For D . . .
I can't say anything that you haven't said better yourself all that time ago. Just never forget the warm nights under the flicker.