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Song Quote Plus
Sep. 27th, 2005 08:31 amNine Days.
Don't you know that I go crazy
But I've nothing left to give
Though I'll miss you for a while
Don't you know that I go crazy
But you're on your own tonight
Though you know I'll miss your smile
That album is so completely meshed with Jan and Kynnin in my mind, with a very specific time period in my life. I remember.
It's fall. Fall is when I fall in love. I remember talking with Jan via computer with the neon red cherry leaves blowing wildly in through the windows, whipped from the sidewalk to settle in the corners of the stairwell. Exultation; that's the word for that feeling, for falling in love in the middle of a windstorm with an anchor to curb the worst excesses.
I remember walking down the hill from high school to Kynnin's house and all the colours were a watery, muted yellow. That was closer to winter than fall. Better, I remember hurrying up the hill to school, holding his hand, and we were both late because we'd been up in each other's arms talking and woke late in front of the fireplace and were sticky with sleep. I never looked for the leaves, that first couple of years with Kynnin, because my eyes were locked so completely on him.
I fell in love with CrazyChris in the fall. It's that quality of light that does it to me, I swear it is, where the air itself is lucent and watery. When I went to meet him for the first time he was sitting in Grandview park, all blues and tidy corners, and I thought, 'british schoolboy'. I could see the edges of his face so clearly. We lay on the grass talking for so long, and I was shivering. I remember his hand.
I love those people still, you know. Not like ghosts, not like memories, but with a clear and present feeling of openness and caring. I haven't talked to Jan, not really, for years; he's in Japan now again. I haven't talked to Kynnin for months; it's not important to him to keep contact right now. Blessedly, Chris and I speak with reasonable frequency, but he remains the closest to me in temperament and so he cherishes the way we work together too. Fall and spring stir up memories in me, for some reason, and the feeling of love is much stronger now.
And now I'm falling in love again, speaking in the car late in the night, with someone I've loved all along but who, after the beginning, backed off to keep me at arm's length. It didn't stop me from loving him, but it did slow it, back it off, so that this is a little bit rediscovery but also very much just discovery-- because who is ever the same twice, and how are we ever to find the little paths, once trodden, in the vast wilderness of a human's soul? Even if they remain unchanged?
So here, these are the morning thoughts I give you. They're heavy thoughts for the morning, brought about because it's warmer under the covers than outside. The heat of my body is not so different from the heat of two bodies, after all; we're still preposterous fires burning, all soft on the outside for all the fury within. They're thoughts brought about because the light, slanting in and under the blinds, is just that particular shade of lucent yellow across my monstera delicosa, *just that colour* that I remember so well.
I am not lonely, though I'm alone, but I hurt in some obscure way. My cup is full yet still filling, and it overflows and the contents pass from my knowledge. The things I love are bigger than I am, and they extend out into the infinite in ways I'll never see, never know of, but am connected to because I have loved them.
I want to be a poet, and write something that begins, "and I have known your smile."
Instead, I will be a dancer, and an actor, and a playwright, and I will write a life.
Don't you know that I go crazy
But I've nothing left to give
Though I'll miss you for a while
Don't you know that I go crazy
But you're on your own tonight
Though you know I'll miss your smile
That album is so completely meshed with Jan and Kynnin in my mind, with a very specific time period in my life. I remember.
It's fall. Fall is when I fall in love. I remember talking with Jan via computer with the neon red cherry leaves blowing wildly in through the windows, whipped from the sidewalk to settle in the corners of the stairwell. Exultation; that's the word for that feeling, for falling in love in the middle of a windstorm with an anchor to curb the worst excesses.
I remember walking down the hill from high school to Kynnin's house and all the colours were a watery, muted yellow. That was closer to winter than fall. Better, I remember hurrying up the hill to school, holding his hand, and we were both late because we'd been up in each other's arms talking and woke late in front of the fireplace and were sticky with sleep. I never looked for the leaves, that first couple of years with Kynnin, because my eyes were locked so completely on him.
I fell in love with CrazyChris in the fall. It's that quality of light that does it to me, I swear it is, where the air itself is lucent and watery. When I went to meet him for the first time he was sitting in Grandview park, all blues and tidy corners, and I thought, 'british schoolboy'. I could see the edges of his face so clearly. We lay on the grass talking for so long, and I was shivering. I remember his hand.
I love those people still, you know. Not like ghosts, not like memories, but with a clear and present feeling of openness and caring. I haven't talked to Jan, not really, for years; he's in Japan now again. I haven't talked to Kynnin for months; it's not important to him to keep contact right now. Blessedly, Chris and I speak with reasonable frequency, but he remains the closest to me in temperament and so he cherishes the way we work together too. Fall and spring stir up memories in me, for some reason, and the feeling of love is much stronger now.
And now I'm falling in love again, speaking in the car late in the night, with someone I've loved all along but who, after the beginning, backed off to keep me at arm's length. It didn't stop me from loving him, but it did slow it, back it off, so that this is a little bit rediscovery but also very much just discovery-- because who is ever the same twice, and how are we ever to find the little paths, once trodden, in the vast wilderness of a human's soul? Even if they remain unchanged?
So here, these are the morning thoughts I give you. They're heavy thoughts for the morning, brought about because it's warmer under the covers than outside. The heat of my body is not so different from the heat of two bodies, after all; we're still preposterous fires burning, all soft on the outside for all the fury within. They're thoughts brought about because the light, slanting in and under the blinds, is just that particular shade of lucent yellow across my monstera delicosa, *just that colour* that I remember so well.
I am not lonely, though I'm alone, but I hurt in some obscure way. My cup is full yet still filling, and it overflows and the contents pass from my knowledge. The things I love are bigger than I am, and they extend out into the infinite in ways I'll never see, never know of, but am connected to because I have loved them.
I want to be a poet, and write something that begins, "and I have known your smile."
Instead, I will be a dancer, and an actor, and a playwright, and I will write a life.
