Sunday, October 18, 2009

look what the cat dragged in.

What is belief without doubt?
I've been knocked on my face
Turned inside out
Out of the shadows I call for You
When all else has failed
What more can I do?

That's right, I have returned. (This sounds oddly familiar, doesn't it?) I attribute my latest burst of creativity to having attended my fifth Hanson concert in St. Louis on October 1. As always, it was face-melting, magical, etc.

Also, my return to the blogosphere comes as a result of cracking open the cloth-bound journal I bought at Border's in Tulsa two-and-a-half years ago. I've filled only half of it. (My journaling, like my blogging, is fickle and sporadic to say the least.) The stuff I've poured out on those pages fills me with a mix of nostalgia, embarrassment and wonder. Mind you, two-and-a-half years ago I was a junior in college. It's safe to say a lot has changed since then. There's more than a few entries that I barely recognize as my own work. I would like to know who is responsible for forging this eccentric fodder, dated 2-27-08, 3:10 p.m. (it's really long and really crazy; brace yourself):

I was wrong
Always wrong
Always flawed
On a blanket
in an ugly dead field
with best friend
And Jack's Mannequin
Weird bugs and
big sunglasses
and awkward couples
in the shadows
of an awkward
What is hope?
What is fear?
Why am I
still here
and can't breathe
Can't find the
words to catch
your ear
Can't make the
right moves
Or cut my
own bangs
So I'll hide
behind them
and smile back
at you
A little shy
and unprepared
and the right
words don't
come easily
The new feeling
trips me up
every time
You wink, I blush
You touch, I jump
You smile, I melt
When did I get
so fearful
Always been
a bit clumsy
A bit ill-equipped
But I never wanted
to fall inside
so completely
Never wanted
to run so badly
and everything
I wanted before
doesn't shine
so much anymore
It won't hurt
to split
The pain is
The wound
won't matter
for very long
The scar
won't forever
remind me of
forbidden kisses
and desperate hands
Clawing through
bedhead and
dresser drawers
for the right look
the perfect mask
bloodshot eyes
full of sleep
and the ghosts of
It's OK
just another
red-letter afternoon
knee brushing mine
Another brush of
a calloused hand
Another smirk
Another knowing glance
To pierce the veil
I hide behind

Oh, the memories that flooded back when I came across that piece. It makes me wish I could always be so faithful about writing down my thoughts and feelings. That was a beautiful afternoon. In fact, I even took a picture:

Oh, mai Razberri Creem Puff. How I miss thee.

I suppose the point of this blog entry was to let the world know I'm out of my slump, at least for the time being.

More to come.

Of handshakes and heartbreak. © 2008. Design By: SkinCorner