anywhere but the star room

I'm starting this post on tumblr then moving it to myspace. I think this is the first time it's gone in this direction. I got home around 6:30 ready to write on the adhoc dock, but a migraine set in. couldn't throw up, couldn't cool down. ate because I knew I needed to, but it made it worse in the short term. put on the night playlist, passed out during "the party tonight", slept through come softly, came to during "for you I hold my breath" all better. music is medicine and then some. I plan on giving it up for lent next year. wish I'd done it this year, but only realized what it meant to me about a week ago.

it's march 3rd. three weeks shy of three years ago I wrote about "getting back to it", the first real writing on here since seven circles. I was at home because work got rained out. shane was in vegas and everyone else was wherever they needed to be. that was a very lonesome time; not lonely, alone. only a month or so removed from savannah and the cursory excursion to the new athens. sarah wasn't over, even though we'd been broken up for five months, but after march 8th, we were in the final act. skype sisters were in my heart and head, but I wouldn't see them until april. looking back, the time itself was rather brief. time puddled and the world shrank away, however. the windows were open, the woods were turning green, and I found myself on the couch, on the computer.

I spent some money on a handful of books from underground in carrollton - off their webpage. they're a lot more expensive if you order them online, I guess they understand how to market to bougie bibliophiles. the books were good, the complementary bag was neat, but that isn't what mattered. it was going through their catalog. I made a bigggg folder of books I wanted from them, over $1000 worth. lotta books that I thought were interesting, lotta books I had never even thought of, and all just a couple miles down the road from where I once dreamt as a kid. it got the heartset drumline tapping again, for the first time in a long time. I remembered why I did anything. I was shown once again that you never know the whole of it, for the better. from september to that march, what was teetering fell. what was bristling burnt. what was built broke. it was a kind of failure, sure, but it was more so loss. a big thing fell apart and the soul beneath it was still there.

memory is imperfect. no two recollections are the same. every remembrance is a synthesis of two moments: then and now. at the time, I remembered the wonder, the quiet excitement, the possibilities. the anxiety, confusion, and milieu didn't bubble up, but they didn't have to. history records what was, memory tells you what happened. at the time, it was enough to get things started again. the engine didn't roar to life - I wouldn't start producing for another year or so - but I got the why back. I got the want. I'm still working on it, and I am by no means where I can/should be, but that's the start of this paradigm. that's where this time began. I remember late april, where what was passed by and I knew I was on the other side.

yesterday, I was scared for the first time in a long time. there have been failures and setbacks since. I've fucked up. but nothing that would reset. I love demosthenian but it can be a memory. there would be sadness, perhaps even regret, but nothing awful. and there'll be oscillation and change amongst us, sure, but I'm never leaving the homos. fear doesn't creep in there because it's simply not happening. families live after death. yesterday, though, I remembered defeat. I remembered the powerlessness, the fear, the sheer dread of it all. big emotions and quiet rooms, still lines betwixt and between. love does what it needs to and sometimes that need is ending. love is why and yet, for the sake of why, it has to stop. it's the little things. miles and money on the road, time on the phone, months between sex. nothing's happened, only possibilities, and unlikely ones at that, but possible, and so you have to accommodate, make the heartspace. you tell them whatever they do is okay but it's them and you and a life to build. you don't want it to happen because it's you two but it'll be okay, though. and you remember the ache, the fear of not only loss, but their loss. of the unbearable anxiety about what they'll do, what will happen, and if they will be okay. they'll always be in your heart, but you can't be there for them, even though you don't love them for you, and by God please just let them be okay. maybe it doesn't matter in the long run, but that doesn't matter. you want life for them as they are and as they will be. that's why we're loving at all, and it doesn't stop. the love may die in absence, but love itself doesn't. three weeks shy of three years ago, I remembered the love, and it started back. yesterday, I felt it.

I agree with the argument against death, but the man drastically overestimates us. death is the reason we'll overcome death, not life. you need to know the end.

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