This Bird Has Flown
Ok, so I know Soccer_Mom (my future boss) is not down with weepy entries about my brother leaving for college, but I feel it--so all of it is going to splinter onto the screen like a car crash
sorry.
So look away or
get stuck in traffic with the other Lookie-Loo's
it's going to be awhile until the ambulances can get through to take away the dismembered pieces of the past.
Don't our memories work in funny ways?
Depending on how we feel about someone, we tend to glorify them or only remember certain pieces of what happened
or remember incorrectly wishing to God that it really did happen
that way, but
technology nowadays with digital photos and tape recorders, and even forensic science eliminate the mysteries of the mind to get the most accurate depiction of what really happened
and we are left standing there with mouths gaping wide
to be fed the truths that we try so hard to deny and
no wonder, we as humans also crash...
It's an overlode...it goes too fast sometimes and the moments are gone and
we forget to savor them because often we are thinking of possible future catastrophies (that may or may not happen) instead of being in our own skin at the present moment
that meeting
that deadline
my homework...
but for NOW we forget that
no one is harming us, we are not in pain
but yet pain is induced by our very human feelings of guilt and anger and panic over what is only a mere possibility
we expect the worse and are in a sick way let down when it doesn't happen because of all our wasted energy
people refuse to live in California because there might be an earthquake but guess what?
Earthquakes do happen all the time
"Yellow bird flying gets shot in the wing
Good year for hunters and christmas parties
And I hate
And I hate
And I hate
And I hate elevator music
The way we fight
The way I’m left here silent
Oh these little earthquakes
Here we go again
Oh these little earthquakes
Doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces
We danced in graveyards with vampires till dawn
We laughed in the faces of kings never afraid to burn
And I hate
And I hate
And I hate
And I hate disintegration
Watching us wither
Black winged roses that safely changed their color
Oh these little earthquakes
Here we go again
Oh these little earthquakes
Doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces
I can’t reach you
I can’t reach you
Give me life, give me pain
Give me myself again
Oh these little earthquakes
Here we go again
Oh these little earthquakes
Doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces
Doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces..."
Little Earthquakes -Tori Amos
but they're so small that we haven't felt them
and even if we have they're kind of fun
and we haven't fallen into the Pacific Ocean yet
So far, Hurricane Charlie has been a greater threat...
And so I said goodbye, to the one person that I truly love
[because I don't have to tell him
because I don't expect it in return]
at 7 am this morning. Couldn't sleep until 2 hours after that suffocating in my own snot
hearing wails that sound like they come from somewhere else
Just barely woke up now
still in my nightgown and bedtime scrunchee
with no one around me to threaten my solitude
He left a note i haven't brought it upon myself to be able to read yet
He was crying and my mom was crying and the last thing he touched was the little
picture frame above our door that says
something unintelligible either because it's so small or
in a different language, but
i stood outside in my nightie not caring if the world saw me weep
and the ground was pushing up against my feet and my head drawn toward the ground
as i saw my dad's big white truck
pulling out of the driveway with something like a few pieces of furniture
that he cared to take with him (and a houseplant, Leon style)
and i put on the blinders walking past the little posters on his door of clint eastwood and some random
sunday comics
makes me want to scream or implode or pick up a musical instrument...
Yup, this strange picture that never fit anywhere and never really made sense finally fits [HERE] and my brother is in a black and white photo like bad movies tend to do with flashbacks...ever seen that?
When i come home there will be no one there watching t.v. and staying up late with me
or making witty remarks about my behavior or dress or something or other that
always seems to make me a better person in the end
my best friend is gone
and the passage of time is so undeniably clear
but yet (you know I'm right) blurred and confused by emotions
And this vacant lot that used to be home now just appears as storage space
for memories that *damn it* i don't even know actually happened...
sorry.
So look away or
get stuck in traffic with the other Lookie-Loo's
it's going to be awhile until the ambulances can get through to take away the dismembered pieces of the past.
Don't our memories work in funny ways?
Depending on how we feel about someone, we tend to glorify them or only remember certain pieces of what happened
or remember incorrectly wishing to God that it really did happen
that way, but
technology nowadays with digital photos and tape recorders, and even forensic science eliminate the mysteries of the mind to get the most accurate depiction of what really happened
and we are left standing there with mouths gaping wide
to be fed the truths that we try so hard to deny and
no wonder, we as humans also crash...
It's an overlode...it goes too fast sometimes and the moments are gone and
we forget to savor them because often we are thinking of possible future catastrophies (that may or may not happen) instead of being in our own skin at the present moment
that meeting
that deadline
my homework...
but for NOW we forget that
no one is harming us, we are not in pain
but yet pain is induced by our very human feelings of guilt and anger and panic over what is only a mere possibility
we expect the worse and are in a sick way let down when it doesn't happen because of all our wasted energy
people refuse to live in California because there might be an earthquake but guess what?
Earthquakes do happen all the time
"Yellow bird flying gets shot in the wing
Good year for hunters and christmas parties
And I hate
And I hate
And I hate
And I hate elevator music
The way we fight
The way I’m left here silent
Oh these little earthquakes
Here we go again
Oh these little earthquakes
Doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces
We danced in graveyards with vampires till dawn
We laughed in the faces of kings never afraid to burn
And I hate
And I hate
And I hate
And I hate disintegration
Watching us wither
Black winged roses that safely changed their color
Oh these little earthquakes
Here we go again
Oh these little earthquakes
Doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces
I can’t reach you
I can’t reach you
Give me life, give me pain
Give me myself again
Oh these little earthquakes
Here we go again
Oh these little earthquakes
Doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces
Doesn’t take much to rip us into pieces..."
Little Earthquakes -Tori Amos
but they're so small that we haven't felt them
and even if we have they're kind of fun
and we haven't fallen into the Pacific Ocean yet
So far, Hurricane Charlie has been a greater threat...
And so I said goodbye, to the one person that I truly love
[because I don't have to tell him
because I don't expect it in return]
at 7 am this morning. Couldn't sleep until 2 hours after that suffocating in my own snot
hearing wails that sound like they come from somewhere else
Just barely woke up now
still in my nightgown and bedtime scrunchee
with no one around me to threaten my solitude
He left a note i haven't brought it upon myself to be able to read yet
He was crying and my mom was crying and the last thing he touched was the little
picture frame above our door that says
something unintelligible either because it's so small or
in a different language, but
i stood outside in my nightie not caring if the world saw me weep
and the ground was pushing up against my feet and my head drawn toward the ground
as i saw my dad's big white truck
pulling out of the driveway with something like a few pieces of furniture
that he cared to take with him (and a houseplant, Leon style)
and i put on the blinders walking past the little posters on his door of clint eastwood and some random
sunday comics
makes me want to scream or implode or pick up a musical instrument...
Yup, this strange picture that never fit anywhere and never really made sense finally fits [HERE] and my brother is in a black and white photo like bad movies tend to do with flashbacks...ever seen that?
When i come home there will be no one there watching t.v. and staying up late with me
or making witty remarks about my behavior or dress or something or other that
always seems to make me a better person in the end
my best friend is gone
and the passage of time is so undeniably clear
but yet (you know I'm right) blurred and confused by emotions
And this vacant lot that used to be home now just appears as storage space
for memories that *damn it* i don't even know actually happened...