I just realised the actual concept of this blog, why I made it and why it's so addictive. It's a way for me to record my thoughts regarding myself and the world around me - the parts of it that interest me, at least - in an attempt to better myself. To see what I know and what I don't, to reflect upon my hopes and fears, and, as several really anonymous alcoholics would put it, to find "the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference". Like a prayer (thank you, Madonna).
I'm not exactly sure who it's addressed to. It could be the ones whom I'd like to get to know me better, like my parents or my imaginary future fans... It could be an invisible therapist-god... It could be myself... or all of the above, and anyone else who cares to join the party. But it's a mystery, a monster or a spirit, a trip Back to the Future through my past and present.
This post is an attempt to name it, using its true name, and thus, according to Ursula LeGuin's Earthsea novels, gain control over it. I really hope it works.
- And yes, you guessed correctly, this is an 80's themed post... Guess what else was born in the 80's... Yours Truly -
4 comments:
Hey wabbit! Sorry that i use your blog to pos my pathetic life but since noone reads mine it will be more popular this way (i could always tell you in person but vanity is the fall of man...Anyway, I just came back from a rather...suicidal live performance. I could try to translate Miltos Pasxalidhs (pronounced pas-ha-lee-dees) work in English but it wouldn't be the same. Let's just say that he's the songwriter of the broken-hearted and of the untold love (but not in a cheesy ballad way. He's the guy who gets kicked in the groin and comes back to ask for another one). His songs are equally intense if you go see him with your spouse (i just love that word ^_^ ) or by yourself, especially if you're down. And i mean DOWN. Below the gutter. Below the lowest planes of Purgatory. Below "7th Heaven". THAT down.
I went with thoughts i was in the first category, happy that for just once in my life i'd see him and have someone (other than Angel, cheers mate!) to hold, to hug and sing-along in those moments when you listen to songs of cold loneliness and lost love...How wrong was I...
To quote my beloved poet/lyricist Martin Walkyier: (at first i wanted just one verse, but my hands couldn't stop typing...)
"And ever has it been that love knows not it's own depth until the hour of separation." - Kahlil Gibran
Maybe someday someone will love me
for what I am (instead of what I should be.)
Until that day I'll just sit here weeping,
chasing dreams is like shadow leaping.
The face behind the mirror - an unrecognised reflection,
his eyes look old and tired - filled with bitter recollection.
The cross that he has carried was a burden I have made,
It's a baptism of tears - they are the seas in which I bathe.
'Cause there's a fire in my heart - but I can't breathe for the smoke,
seems that I'm living proof my life's a practical joke.
There's a wind in my sails (but I have lost all my direction),
with no stars to guide me now you're not here beside me anymore.
Somehow, somewhere you will discover
a love so sweet that it tasted like no other,
and on that day may you both drink deep
from that grail we found - but then failed to keep.
It's a season I've learned well - some things just cannot be,
the key that will unlock your soul is someone else (not me).
If you should remember - hope you smile and wish me well,
as I walk my path to heaven through ten thousand miles of hell.
I stand alone against the cold grey sky,
it was blue that day (but not as blue as I).
I left my hearts high on that Roman hill,
I'll wait a thousand years but it will be there still.
Holding hands in silence as the day came to an end,
we climbed up there as lovers - then we walked back down just friends.
I've know my share of heartaches, never thought of them as bad -
but had never quite imagined I could ever feel this sad.
One more gig that brings me closer to Miltos...Empty packs of cigarettes and wasted happy thoughts...
Excuse my mood, but wether or not it ended good, Miltos lives always turn me inside out. I feel like i was left out in the rain (practically i was) but way worse. Beaten with a velvet glove, with all the stereotype quips and "by the book" explanations...
It's not jealousy, my precious,
that's chocking me like smoke.
It's that someday you'll come for me
but love will be long gone...
Once again sorry for my abuse. But, as you said, it's therapy... :'(
Dude, who broke your heart? Tell me, tell me and I'll go break their knees :P
It's ok people, nothing to see here! Move along now!
Everything is fine now.
It's probably the fact that I was born in the 80s too that made me find this blog entry moving...
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