photo by loveblushfever
january blues all beat up cold tired restless and bored what i’d do for just a little sun, a little warmth, the sound of snow melting and the slapping of a skipping rope in the driveway instead it’s the snapping of branches in the cold dark night, the man across the street who works early and wakes me at 4 in the morning as he scrapes frost from his front windshield.
god i hate winter.
photo by loveblushfever (c)
reclamation
Small things are gigantic. A heart on fire in the middle of the ocean. One lonely tree on a hilltop. An old couple holding hands at the market. A clock on the mantle counting down the moments.
I thrive on pretense and assumption, on hope and yearning. Some corner of meager existence, where things make sense in a small way, and little things are just little things, with a spill or two along the way.
Comfortably weary and restless. I hear there’s only so much time. And sometimes everything just has to be slow like snow falling. And sometimes there is no reason, just an idea.
A concentrated mediocrity. Boiled down, reduced, reclaimed, returned. A lifetime isn’t enough. There’s never enough time or hunger to go all the way round.
But to need a little less. To let in a little more. Of the world. Of you. So put on your face. And your dancing shoes.
Life waits for no one.
-loveblushfever
H. Jackson Brown Jr
Isak Dineson
“There is a time for departure even when there’s no certain place to go.”
Tennessee Williams
photo by loveblushfever (c)
Breeze coming in the window. Quiet thoughts. Simple, unadorned images of faint, yet bright memories drifting into and out of view. What we have to say versus what we have to tell. Stories have all kinds of beginnings. I sift through fragments of thoughts, ideas of things, and hold on a little longer to some kind of meaning that continues to elude me. It feels like I haven’t slept in years. My keys are still in the door. I’ve left the coffee on all day. Laundry’s still in the washing machine. I’m holding on to the edge of the desk half off my chair. Either I’m terrified or I’m indecisive. Regardless, it is the end of something. I feel that whatever all of this has been is cascading to an end point where I don’t have to do this anymore, where there is no will to put myself through all the drama any longer. It feels at once relieving, warm and good, and absolutely horrifying. Anything that ends is this way. I’m not prepared to embark, to push away from the shore and just float along, no direction, just stumbling through, on undercurrents, fumes. Just get on with it. Inhale.
The components of anxiety, stress, fear, and anger do not exist independently of you in the world. They simply do not exist in the physical world, even though we talk about them as if they do.
Deficiency motivation doesn’t work. It will lead to a life-long pursuit of try to fix me. Learn to appreciate what you have and where and who you are.
It is impossible for you to be angry and laugh at the same time. Anger and laughter are mutually exclusive and you have the power to choose either.
Stop acting as if life is a rehearsal. Live this day as if it were your last. The past is over and gone. The future is not guaranteed.
Abundance is not something we acquire. It is something we tune into.
You are doomed to make choices. This is life’s greatest paradox.
over the edge
of a tall place
thinking, hell, why not?
but also why bother?
it’s all a chore
something to be crossed off but it’s somebody else’s list
i’m fumbling along with adverbs
they’ve already dictated my epitaph
i’m not sure if i should be amused or outraged
this is the extent of my involvement in my life
i just breath and get on with it
apparently there’s this whole other realm
of participation
still
it’s just me breathing
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