(no subject)
in tucson now. it is very much a homecoming. i have felt for a long time that there was nowhere that was home to me. but this was a home. is a home. anything you come to know becomes beloved. and on that note, i don't think you can possibly know something and hate it simultaneously. truly understand i mean. this doesn't apply to concepts or ideas. just people, places, objects of life. i'm pretty sure i mean this. there is no dissonance between what i thought these friends were to me and what they are. i love them. so much less the feeling of inherent isolation. these mountains are mine. and i can still be comfortable in a light sweater in over 90-degree heat. there are stories i can't bring them; starting over is an act of isolation, rebuilding and synthesis.
when i lived here i felt so starved. the land was barren, isolated, long dead. my job consumed my time and there was no time left for me to fill myself on. there was no food. now it's like thanksgiving and once a year. how do i bring the concentrated bits closer and closer until there are no longer periods of famine? spark and condense, spark and condense.
* * *
(i have fallen so deeply in love with 'in the aeroplane over the sea')
The only girl I've ever loved
Was born with roses in her eyes
But then they buried her alive
One evening 1945
With just her sister at her side
And only weeks before the guns
All came and rained on everyone
Now she's a little boy in Spain
Playing pianos filled with flames
On empty rings around the sun
All sing to say my dream has come
But now we must pack up every piece
Of the life we used to love
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on
And now we ride the circus wheel
With your dark brother wrapped in white
Says it was good to be alive
But now he rides a comet's flame
And won't be coming back again
The Earth looks better from a star
That's right above from where you are
He didn't mean to make you cry
With sparks that ring and bullets fly
On empty rings around your heart
The world just screams and falls apart
But now we must pack up every piece
Of the life we used to love
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on
And here's where your mother sleeps
And here is the room where your brothers were born
Indentions in the sheets
Where their bodies once moved but don't move anymore
And it's so sad to see the world agree
That they'd rather see their faces fill with flies
All when I'd want to keep white roses in their eyes
(holland, 1945 - neutral milk hotel)
when i lived here i felt so starved. the land was barren, isolated, long dead. my job consumed my time and there was no time left for me to fill myself on. there was no food. now it's like thanksgiving and once a year. how do i bring the concentrated bits closer and closer until there are no longer periods of famine? spark and condense, spark and condense.
* * *
(i have fallen so deeply in love with 'in the aeroplane over the sea')
The only girl I've ever loved
Was born with roses in her eyes
But then they buried her alive
One evening 1945
With just her sister at her side
And only weeks before the guns
All came and rained on everyone
Now she's a little boy in Spain
Playing pianos filled with flames
On empty rings around the sun
All sing to say my dream has come
But now we must pack up every piece
Of the life we used to love
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on
And now we ride the circus wheel
With your dark brother wrapped in white
Says it was good to be alive
But now he rides a comet's flame
And won't be coming back again
The Earth looks better from a star
That's right above from where you are
He didn't mean to make you cry
With sparks that ring and bullets fly
On empty rings around your heart
The world just screams and falls apart
But now we must pack up every piece
Of the life we used to love
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on
And here's where your mother sleeps
And here is the room where your brothers were born
Indentions in the sheets
Where their bodies once moved but don't move anymore
And it's so sad to see the world agree
That they'd rather see their faces fill with flies
All when I'd want to keep white roses in their eyes
(holland, 1945 - neutral milk hotel)