Half the world where I've been lost and found. You can only stumble through someone else telling you what your dreams mean for so long. You eventually start to look at it as though those dreams are yours and there is no reason to feel down. You stretch your muscles and take stock of your soul's water level and decide that today no one has to like me but me. Today I am an autonomous viable being.
I remember watching "About a Boy" in Seoul, Korea and thinking about how much I wanted to be the lead character played by Hugh Grant. I wanted to travel the world or just sit there. I didn't really care. I remember not worrying and then crying and worrying all the time. I remember missing and then thanking. I wished there was balance amongst it that would allow me to go again. I want to hear the words sung by Badly Drawn Boy and sit there on a clean floor in my socks with the warmth of the heated water pipes while eating Ramin noodles out of a bowl as I looked out at my clothes line and the snow falling on an old man raking the leaves. I want that away warmth back. I want to feel alone all over again. Alone and comfortable is how I behave best.
I put my arm around her waist. She put me on the ground with judo and she couldn't smile while looking at me. She felt the need to sweep me off my feet before I made the mistake of believing horoscopes and birthday wishes. She walked out to the edge of town and she took a little girl by the hand. They had a lot in common. I'll leave them to do what they need to do. I'll go and play with words and pictures. I'll go and tell the story of Emma and Lindsay: the Judo boxer and girl with cold hands.
I'm not as descriptive as Dostoevsky and I'm not as clever as Mark Twain. I'm not terrific at much but I'm competent at this. I have no idea what a girl thinks and what I say only seems to hurt. It's beyond me what a girl can see. I can only write and explain and listen while the time passes to the moment when love looks up and explains it all to me once again. This is just a piece of a blog. This is not the bible and I can't dance to it.
It is a dance we do in silence far below the morning sun. We can stand without speaking and draw the water from our hands. It is a long way that I have come across the sand to find this peace. The face of the sun resides in the smile of you and so far the other way my life has gone.
You can bust your feet and you can rock this joint. But aren't you going to miss your best friend? You have to find yourself another mother. Don't try to let me ease because you'll lose. There is salt on the top of the levee looking for you to lick it as the time has come to drink the tonic that got you to the point of the high tide. Pack up your suitcase and don't make a sound. Just go on down the street and without this movable rock you will see the meanest flood that anyone has ever seen.
Talking all these kinds of blues makes no sense to me. Reading all this bad writing and bad poetry by people trying to pick up pieces that weren't broken but dropped. You had a gift once and that was to live. Instead you decided to believe too much in yourself. Learn from the ones who preach to you that you should never preach.
I hate Cat Stevens. I really don't like anyone given the luxury of just wanting to be. I too just want to be. I don't have interest accruing or records selling out of the Wallmart 9.99 bin. Don't talk to me about freedom and just being. You have already been when you decided to just be.
Fast forwarding only makes me forget that still works.
I liked watching Jerry McGuire the first time. I remember hearing Shelter from the Storm at the end and thought all I needed was something good in my life. I looked and there wasn't much there that was good. I looked and it all falls apart sooner or later unless you really do learn to love. In order for love to live you really do have to forgive and love and be patient. You have to put someone else first and you have to do it unconditionally. Maybe true love allows this. Maybe some people aren't meant to love they just fall in love with the idea of it. You can't walk on hard nails forever. You'll miss the symphony for the curtain.