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Wed 21 May, 2003 03:44 am
hello everyone, i'm new. i often write. the words to follow needed a new place. hopefully here is o.k. thank you
______________
do not know where these words will end up, i just write out of necessity and formulate a recipient as we go. actually i'm quite thirsty but this isn't about me, cause if it was i would be saying man i wish i could break free of this terrible writing form, i hate it i hate it i hate it. who it's about i may never now. continue to write. dear God i'm thirsty. dear God. dear journal i'm thirsty and my chest hurts and i'm oh so very tired. above all - these things at least- i'm very sad that she left. very sad. see, it is quite worth admitting that i very much like her. the sight of her name opens my eyes wide. this is about her. actually it appears otherwise, namely as a boy and his shallow dreams, but it's not quite like that at all, and actually it is a grave mistake for me to try and explain. i simply need to write a little while, if that's ok. i wish there was a reader who could read this. i wish she wouldn't have to read it. i wish i could write without her as a reader. i wish i could write for another reader. project: to write but not for her. problem: 'her' becomes replaced so to speak, though we are very fortunate to have the knowledge that no one could ever be like her, that she is not an ordinary person, and my stupidity is beyond measure for saying anything at all about her. her. you want to know who she is? a boy must say yes or risk losing everything. and intelligent girl the same, and an envious one no way. truth is that i'm overwhelmingly tired. and sad, she left. lust. wanting something someone else has. she has love and devotion. truth be told i am envious of her in so many ways, and i am sorry, ___, i'm sorry for that. please forgive me. i want to be with you. i think i have never been so tired. ___, come back now and let's be friends again like before, even though it hurt so much at times and i couldn't even for sure say why.
Hi, elroy.
Welcome to A2K.
When I taught, we referred to your style of writing as "Free Writing". Your freedom speaks to the heart, and calls up all the senses. Keep putting that pen to paper, elroy
Hi Letty, thank you very much
with weight
pen in hand could leave a trace of honesty for this second sheet paper. all in all, the day we passed by the pulp mills on the lake, the mountain backdrop that nearly caused an accident, a photograph memory with an ugly, oversized t-shirt and painful smile that was, in retrospect, the best i knew at the time. and the best i know now is so much better than this but for some reason this i settle for, though i could hardly call it that. chop this chop that it's staccato sentences from the word go today but i write and hope for the rhythm that soothes my shaking leg and agitated hands and arms. it could be the song. it could be the schedule. it could be many, many things, but we all know it's really only one, and even that- there's one below, underneath, behind and above that- the main one proper. as for now we'll keep it on the surface to avoid getting kicked in the face. we'll keep it proper and reserved. we'll keep trying to get something from nothing until we make believe we've got it, got something to hold on to, someone. if hope is a person, please come to me. please let me hold on to you for dear life, for it is everything but dear to me now. i am only to blame, i am only a fool to let this deteriorate into self pity whining in the late hours of wasted days
aside:
i plan to post elsewhere in this place. just right now i am limited to this Free Writing . this too shall pass
oh, and double-post.. is that permitted? it serves as another signpost as to how selfish, self-absorbed i feel right now. but this touch of morose, it is passing and permeable. end
elroy, as Frost would say, "....lovely, dark, and deep.." You might choose to tell us something of yourself on your profile page. Here's a thread that I started which will also let us know something of you.
http://www.able2know.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=7831&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0
You have quite a talent, my friend.
All kindness and compliments aside, though don't get me wrong- thank you
________
write write write if only i could write without looking at the pen and page letters like left hand across before we go and the blue stain on the right and
winter memory on christmas eve, walking from the bus stop to the house, stop to unfold the plain white paper and take down skeletal frames of previously well-kept and withdrawn words. and now, this song defeats me like ice cream, fresh air on bicycles, flower bearing spring, flat on your back in the ocean before sunrise, fall nights, winter nights, summer nights. and now the second.. i use to say, 'how long can i live without one without a second?' then .. actually the rest of that story is burning inside, a tiny flame of devotion that these words pour heaps of water on. but i can't help falling in love with you. they say no love in this world. they say it and it's true, my God it's true, but i can't help falling in love with you. cue the music. you know, i used to be in this band. we played loud, fast, direct- it was impossible to sit still. and now. knees in this chair, head to toe shake on the vertical. there's an open field with ancient maples on the perimeter, along the river bank, and within the park proper is a single, plain-clothes young man running irretrievably, irresistibly, and smiling incessantly, incoherently. if words could talk to this end, if a face could render a scenery obsolete, if i could only remain for one more day, one more day in this full length caption of a curving tide, the passing of my life could be justified
'some things were meant to be'
these are the days and ways that i've missed you. my friends that i really never had have all left home again. here it's her shadow and a reserved minuet on the wayward side of an everlasting day. one word sent as an adversary to reason
____my name here. comma, get it together. this is unlike other situations and it's time to grasp that, completely. she is different, you are different, it's just different that's all; get a hold of yourself. *sigh* i feel a hint of 18, with thoughts that threaten to enter- 'no one could ever know the despair in the core of my heart' why do i keep doing this to myself. just because one day or at one moment she sends glances like a flash of lightning. excuse me, but i am feeling a touch of melancholy.
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