September 23, 2011 § Leave a comment
“I never felt right and I never fit in, walking in my own skin.” -Wherefore art thou, Elvis – The Gaslight Anthem.
When it comes down to it. When it ends. However it ends. I would like to think that I thought the good fight. That every word left my mouth with honesty and integrity. That every action was done for the ultimate benefit of someone other than myself. That every single punch I threw was just and not a drunken bar brawl or an unnecessary act of rebellion. That every fact I learnt helped me. Every journey was needed. Everything meant something more than just a silly boy being selfish of a tiny rock spinning mad through the sky of an area I couldn’t even get my head around. I’d like that to be me. I’d like that to be it. I think we both know it will. Maybe I will be safe in the knowledge that everyone makes mistakes. No ones perfect. Maybe that will be enough. I hope. Maybe I won’t care. Maybe I will be glad it’s over. Maybe excited about finally finding out whats next. Maybe the crushing overwhelming quilt and sadness at leaving a loved one to rattle around inside our old house. I hope she goes first. If I love her. I want her to pass first. I couldn’t do that to her. If she loved me like I love her. That’s how I would want to feel. But the truth is we have no idea what it’s going to feel like. A dear friend of mine once told me a thought she had that scared her almost more than anything. The logic, to me, was floored greatly. But that’s just my mind. She told me “I’m scared that there will be no afterlife, that this is it. This is all we get. Terrified.” I took a moment. “But, surely, if there is no afterlife then you would never know it. You would never be in a situation when that fear could be realised.” “I know that.” She said, “but it still scares the hell out of me.” Fear is a strange old thing.
Someone emailed me the other day, she was a little drunk I think. But she asked what love is. I thought about it. Long and hard. Really hard. I thought back to every time I had felt that emotion. I came to the conclusion, for a small amount of time, that love is feeling an unbearable amount undescribeable of emotion for someone without the constant fear of loosing them forever. I stuck with this. I worked it into a nice sounding sentence. But then I realised that that didn’t work. It’s floored because you can love someone that’s gone. That could leave. I decided that was just my insecurity shining through. So what is love? Your going to have to give me a couple more days Sam. I will see what I can do after that.
September 15, 2011 § Leave a comment
“I guess I never told you, I’m so happy that your mine” – you were always on my mind.
We are many things, to many people. That’s our nature. As humans. We are different people to our mothers as we are to ours friends as we are to our lovers as we are to our enemies. That’s just the way our brains our. The way we feel. The way we were supposed to be. No one could live as one person. It’s just not the way that anyone could pull this crazy trick off. This crazy trick being a fulfilled life. This crazy trick being the necessity of seeing to needs. This crazy trick being any attempt at the perfect game. Oh dear. He seems to be back on to the strange posts. The mad posts. The ones that scare his friends and enemies and lovers and friends. He seems to be back on the sauce. We like to pretend we got even. Leveled out. Even understood the crazy. How we wish to claim that the words of whoever reached the edge could be our own. No. they’re not for you. Those scribbles aren’t even an attempt at poetry despite what they maybe. They are merely a footnote, a notebook attempt at keeping track of what happened the night before. Drugs. Drugs. Drugs you will have to get your head around. A demon to be slain. Know your limits and stop before you grow too old. The body stays young until the cliff fall where you st0p caring. It shuts off. Game over after that. I keep hearing these noises in my house. They bang and clang and sing. It’s a little more I know, a little strong. A little way to keep me on the level. No lies just love. LEVEL OUT. No, it’s not coming, there’s no Tennesse Williams click, no Hendrix snap, no marker to be heard from the over indulgent. Your limits are your own. No one will spell them out. No one knows them but you. Unless of course you have never crossed them, in which case no one knows them. In which case I am yet to decide between hating you or envying you or just feeling a disregardful loss of spilling sorrow in your general direction. Shit. Shit? Yes Simon. Shit. You tried so hard to keep yourself from falling back into those bad old ways. Shit. This is a good idea? Oh god. Here is comes. I love this song. Shit. Sense is overrated. Sense is a cold and calculated attempt at covering our true selves. Myself. I’m me. You know that. You’ve seen me at me most me. That’ll do. Fuck us. It’s over.
September 11, 2011 § Leave a comment
It’s been ten years. Ten long years since I stood and watched in my bedroom still in my school uniform. Ten long years since September 11th 2001. I remember it. I remember coming home to my mother fixated on the television, she turned to me, and in that dead tone quick firing voice that all human beings share in those moments when they know they are witnessing history. An event that will be discussed for the next hundred years. An event that will be the defining moment of our generation. The defining moment in a decade that wasn’t even two years old. We were too young to be defined. We were too young for any of this. The things that always stuck with me, wasn’t the Hollywood moment when the second plane hit the tower live on television, or even when the towers came to the ground spilling the dust of shatter lives across the what used to be the New York skyline, it was three things that still go around and around in my head. First was the sound, that strange mix of screams and sirens, New York city on it’s knees. I heard never heard anything like that. A whole city screaming. Second was the unbelievable site that still leaves won’t leave my eyes dry, the image of those without choice who threw themselves to their deaths. The twisted realisation that these people, who had set of to work that morning, probably moaning about how the subway had been late, or that they had to get off earlier to see there kids play, where now in the fore front of a war. A war in New York city. The way it made me feel. The way it made every hair on my body stand on end, the way I tingled with a quiet fear, I still feel it now. One thing that concerned me then, as a boy in a school uniform so used to answers, was that no one had any. It wasn’t just my parents that didn’t know. It was that the people on the television didn’t know. It was that George Bush didn’t know. I can still remember when the cameras cut to Washington, the confusion of smoke pouring from the Pentagon and the rumors a “small plane” had hit it. That wondering thought of exactly how far this was going to go today. Nobody knew. Nothing else mattered. This was our Falklands, our Gulf war, our Vietnam, just all in one day. I was felt uncomfortable calling it 9/11. It was like some slick marketing term for news teams that couldn’t be bothered to say the full date of the tragedy, like saying the whole thing would take up too much time. Events like this do not to be abbreviated, they deserve every second you should take to say the full date. I know this is an opinion that I’m pretty much alone in. I just always saw it as lazy and almost disrespectful.
This was history and we all knew it. For a boy, who considered America go from the strutting pinical of democratic and military dominance, to see it on it’s knees, like me, just a scared child with tears just falling down my face, in just one day, that’s what it meant to me. I was only a kid. I was too young to see. Too young to understand. But when I went to bed after watching the news for what must have been 8 hours straight I knew that the world had changed. I knew that warm blood would be shed for what had happened this day for years to come. For better or for worse, the death toll of September 11th 2001 would be rising for years to come. I was sure of that.
September 9, 2011 § 1 Comment
I had an idea. A thought I think. A vague mental blur of a perspective that I wanted to express. But it went. It was lost up here. Along with my morals and my innocents. Along with the politics of being young. Along with my old friends. But I’m happy. It was just a point I was trying to make. Something that I wanted to communicate to you. Whoever you are. Where ever and however you are. Life is good right now. I think. I know. It’s working. Life.
No matter how much we stand tall, put on our best hard face and walk around like we own the place everyone needs someone. It’s human nature to want that bond. That connection. Whether it’s that warm, reassuring feeling of a close friend who calms you down and makes you smile for simply getting lost in the conversation. Or that strange twisting chemistry between two lovers. That odd, often unpredictable, chemistry. It’s dangerous. Anyone who has lived and loved and lost will tell you. They say hell has no fury like a woman scorned but fury never scared me as much as the moments where I was all alone and the victim of recent heartache. Love is beautiful. Love is the goal. Life is about love. Love is dangerous. So dangerous that cowards treat it like a super bio hazard from the movies, dressed up in white suites, approaching cautiously making breathing noises like Darth Vader, reaching for the sterilized tongs, god forbid they actually touch it, god forbid they actually feel something. No, that’s not the approach for me, no bio suite for me, maybe that’s where I have been going wrong. I jumped in. I grabbed the bio hazard the second I knew what it was. And yes, I got sick. Sicker than I have ever been. I think it was worth it even if that wasn’t my thoughts at the time. What I’m saying is, to quote Bob Dylan “Get sick, get well.” Chance your arm. You would wear that heart on your chest much better if it was on your sleeve, put it down there, it suites you. So what if you get hurt? Embarrassed? That’s the worst that can come of a failed jaunt. The best of what could come of it? To me that always outweighed a little pain, a little embarrassment. I know this is a message I have said before. Numerous times. But there’s a reason for that. It’s because I want you to be happy. I want you to smile. Please, now, go on, smile. Now, go get who you want.
I started this blog when I was crazy. My mind was a little warped and pulled and twisted into a strange shape where it didn’t really fit inside my head anymore. I had to put the excess somewhere. I had to store away the crazy if I was even going to attempt to keep at the straight and narrow. Now there is less crazy. But it’s still a place to come. To expand thought. To share with the few loyal ones. This one’s for you. This bar is ours.
No Longer An Astronaut.
September 1, 2011 § 2 Comments
“There’s this switch that gets hit and it just stops making sense.” – Hit the Switch – Bright Eyes.
There’s a special sort of fear. An extreme form. Some go their whole lives without feeling it. Some will feel it all to often. It is wildly different to the everyday fear. Everyday fear seems mundane compare to this. It’s the fear you get when something threatening is happening and you know that you are isolated. You know that there is no relying on your friends to get out of this, no fathers back to hide behind, no safety in numbers. You have to rely on you. Your brain. Your body. The same body that you had to rely on in your weakest moments, the same brain that made all those mistakes. These are the tools you have to deliver you from evil. Some will say that god is with them, and that that gives them strength. Some of those people are telling the truth, they would take strength from which ever god they were brought up to believe in or turned to in time of need. Some would be just as scared as you. Often fear snaps faith. People turn to faith in times of need like it owes them. Like faith turns to them when times are good. It is in these moments we find out what is truly inside us. You loose that reliance on those around you and make piece with the fact that there are hard times ahead before you get to where you want to be. You dig down deep inside. You remember every moment that you stood up for yourself. Every moment you impressed yourself with new levels of aggression. The moments you took no shit. Then you swallow hard. Fill those lungs. And you face whatever it is that you have to face. And should it become a matter of him or me. You try and tell yourself that you would make sure it was him. Even if, you know, deep down, that you haven’t got it in you. Even if you say you do.