Wednesday, February 13, 2013

The Spaces Between My Fingers

Guys, I'm finally writing again and it feels really good. Not just here, I'm writing my own stuff too and I love it. There is a freedom in expression. There is also an inexplicable pain, one that comes from finding out exactly what makes you tick or realizing that something that you've kept inside of you is now out on the page and will never be a part of you in the same way again. But, you have to do that in order to make room for all of the new thoughts and feelings and bits of pain and sorrow and joy and curiosity.

Tonight, the moon reminded me of something bigger. The cheshire cat smile disappeared behind the grey clouds, as if the moon was calling me to follow it beyond the atmosphere. And I wanted to follow. This week and last I've been wanting to follow that moon along the flat and empty roads of Arizona, Nevada, California, and every other state around here. There is no greater joy that I can imagine right now than taking a road trip. Putting in some music, going to some place to go camping, and just hiding away from everything for a little while. Going alone is fun. But going with someone would be great. If anyone reading this wants to road trip this 3-day weekend has a car and wants to go, let me know. I'm down.

But just imagining myself driving down a road with the silver light of the moon making the asphalt look more silver than black, the sky more blue than black, and the entire world just seems better in the moonlight makes me extremely giddy. I'd make a mix, okay I'd make like three. I'd bring books on tape. I'd bring my guitar. I'd bring my favorite books. I'd leave my computer, my iPod, my kindle, and everything else that weighs me down. We wouldn't talk about homework. We'd talk about what it is like to feel immortal and other important things. I'd bring my sleeping bag and sleep under the stars. I'd bring my film camera and I'd remember all the beautiful moments the world offered me. Those moments make me feel alive. They remind me that I am human, but they make me forget I am mortal. The stars do that more often than anything for me.

There is a painting in the museum of art that I'll after that. This is the kind of moonlight that I am talking about. And skys that go on forever. I want that.

I am always having arguments with myself regarding how personal I want to be on this blog. The debate exists between two sides: I want to be open so that people know what I am going through and can learn from what is happening in my life OR I can just not be open and use this as a chance to get away and just express myself. I want to tell someone what is going on in my life and I talk to my roommate about it, but there are some people I just want to talk to sometimes. And this blog is one of those people and I don't know who reads this. I don't care who reads this because then I'd write to you. And I don't want to do that. Also, I am not a good writer and I feel like you would judge me. So many people write so eloquently and interestingly. I can't, I just write whatever comes through my mind. I tried to write poetry before, and some of it was good. However, that was too structured for me. There is a reason that I prefer Jack Kerouac over Frank O'Hara. I like O'Hara, but Kerouac gets me. He just writes and writes and it is beautiful.

That is all I feel like writing on here today, so goodnight all. Goodnight moon.


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  2. Crossing the moon-river in style, with the huckleberry friend by your side, under the resplendent rulers of the sky, is inexplicable joy. It lends a grain of immortality to your life. You are one of the immortals in that particular moment, gloriously oblivious of the mundane everyday life.

    I think I have lost my spot of moonbeam somewhere along the dreary path of adulthood. Make sure, you don't follow my path :-)

    And, by the way, you write only too well. I deal with words, however moribund they may be, in professional sphere, so I ought to know.

  3. Two drifters, off to see the world. Adulthood will never find me, and if it does it will have to drag my cold dead body from the second star to the right.

    And thank you, kindly!

  4. 'Two drifters, off to see the world', exactly so.
    A brave new world, with the moon, and the stars, and a small boat on the Mississippi. From Mark Twain, my sepia-tinted dream travels to Audrey Hepburn. I've become a memory-intoxicated melancholic these days.

    1. The hangover from memory-intoxication is the worst.