Sunday, March 28, 2010

Little Things

"Please take care of yourself, was the last thing I said, right before the operator made us disconnected"

If I could take one moment, and digest it, fully and completely, it would take away from every emotion that moment was. It's why I over analyze sometimes, it's why I talk too much sometimes, it's why we all think think think before we say something, it makes it so broken down and thought over that there's really no emotion left anymore, and we don't have to feel so different when it's gone.

It's why I pick out the small things. It's why I want to just appreciate everything for exactly what it is.

"I never want some one to become a photograph stapled to a memory."

It's all those little things that make up exactly who a person is, and what something is and where a time starts and exactly where it ends. This isn't over analyzing to get rid of emotion, this is knowing all the small things before you prepare yourself to take it all in again at once, brand new, but so familiar. It's why I love that mole on your neck. I can't really elaborate on this, or give an analogy, but think of a movie you love so much, that you want to share with everyone else. You know all the best lines, all the best parts, all the frames where something so small happens that only you've recognized it. This feels good, to see it again, with more people, because it's so familiar to you, to brand new, and different in so many ways.

This is why we like to know all the words to our favorite songs. This is why I love the way your eyes look when you say certain things.

I can't say I don't miss some things. When I say things for example, all the thoughts get so jumbled that I'll leave something out. You get pure, raw, word. It's all I can say, and it's the only linear progression I can make of the thoughts in my head. This is why sometimes I say things I don't really mean. It comes out in the wrong order, and it comes out sounding like something completely different.

I want to give  body to everything in my life. I little weight to everything that happens, so I'll really remember it. Give something a name that doesn't have a name. I want everything I do, to have a more profound purpose than the outward appearance. Use metaphors instead of analogies. I just want to have everything in brighter color. High definition. Set my corneas to 1080p, continue with my day.

This is why I love the words you use, that I've never had said to me before.

This is why foreign languages are more mysterious to me than anything else I've ever encountered. They could be beautiful, smooth syllables, rolling of the tongue of a gentle soul, but they could mean the most horrible terrible things. They could have the girth and crisp bite of a crashing sea, but the only words spoken could be a semantic hand of gratitude and kindness. You don't get to experience things like that holing yourself up, bleeding into ignorance.

This is why I like to see you out of the corner of my eye, because it's another image of you I can add to the collage.

This is why with the changing day, we as human beings change so much. In the morning you lead your silhouette, pushing yourself forward into the afternoon, when you're completely alone, making the choices to fill out your day or simply look back and wait. This is why at night your shadow follows you, and reminds you exactly how you've lived your day. Haunting or praising you for everything that's happened in the last hours of your life.

This is why I sometimes wonder if you've ever been talked about this way before.

When some one loses all the little things, they become an object. A stamp that you place on every experience you have with them, so you can mail it into the past. No return address. It makes them into the orchid on a burning coffin, cast into the effervescing mist of an ocean. It burns a single shade of waving orange, until finally it ends. This is what people become when they become objects in this way. You have to pick the small things out, watch people's eyes, or you'll miss it, all of it the next day.

This is why I wish I looked at myself. Picked out the little things with me. Picked out all the excuses I use to keep myself standing still. Out there, somewhere, in the dark, is my dream of being a musician. An author. A poet. A politician. but I keep holding myself still, with the dramatic edge of my life. The little paring knife that I keep twirling around in front of me. It's the idle threat that taking a step forward might leave me without a toe. I read something tonight, that spoke of a disaster, marking the end of our metaphysical youth. We're always sitting, waiting, and not moving forward. Preparing ourself for that disaster that'll stop us from ever moving forward at all. Maybe it'll be a relief.

This is why I remember the words you say.

This is why I remember the words I say.

This is why it's so hard to sometimes come back and try again. Try to take that dive again. Because we'll always remember the little things. We all just need some one to cover that canvas again, to record that tape, and to playback something original. Something you spend so much time picking apart, only to relive again. Brand new.

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