the feeling of being
it’s like a leaf that’s fallen from a tree getting trampled on, knowing it’s season is over but also knowing that disintegration serves it’s purpose.
choice, death, divinity, existential, floppy, free will, freedom, goodbye, heidegger, jackandrose, Kant, memories, movingon, Nightingale, nostalgia, poetry, Ponty, sinking, surrender, survive, titanic, trinity
it’s strange, nightingale….
i’ve refused to buy a new floppy for twenty damned years
and instead, preferred to delete you slowly,
song by song.
it’s taken me around twenty years,
but, you’re gone from storage.
i’m not sad, really, but it’s a reminder that nothing lasts, really,
and for me,
divinity is the trinity,
and, for me, the trinity is a silver wall.
i’ve used it for climbing, dangling my feet, stargazing, walking, praying, loving, vogueing…
and i’m taking proper care to store all of that shit carefully.
the things i didn’t think i could do without you.
you are my jack to the rose, and i know you’ve drowned.
it hurts to think of you in that freezing ice, but i know you don’t have to feel anything, so i can’t blame you entirely…
though i know you should be flying; so many circumstances i couldn’t control.
i tried to hold on. but you let go.
you let go and you fucking gave up.
so i had to erase them.
i hope you understand; i mean, i know you do.
i’m not sad. i’m just…kinda torn up a little.
maybe just fragile. maybe just survivor’s guilt, like they call it.
but when my disk is full, again, which it almost is,
i promise i will intentionally save all of my own and
go buy a new fucking floppy so I can make some more.
and one of my files will be called, “nightingale.”
i listened to the moody blues album you gave me tonight
since you are getting married tomorrow
i thought i should let it all go.
in case i was holding on without realizing it.
i was expecting some dramatic emotional display on my part.
ain’t got time for that shit.
thought i did? i truly expected to be all sad tonight.
all the train rides, expectations, sequoias, sunsets….
countless books and albums…
i must’ve done this before. released you.
like james brown dancing.
bass and horns. maybe a table top.
james brown GETS ME.
he gets me.
we never agreed on that kind of energy anyway.
i was always too much high for you.
see ya around.
maybe the kids you didn’t want to have will be friends with mine someday.
While grieving several losses and working on forgetting and remembering and integrating all of these, knowing that some forgetting causes creative growths, but so does remembering, as we are always transformed in the present by the past …..all of these- freedoms, past loves (and present), closed doors/burned bridges,
this Pablo Neruda poem speaks volumes to me:
“If You Forget Me – Poem by Pablo Neruda
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
if each day,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.”