| [ the twenty-first november ] |
[ November 18th | 16:49 pm] |
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mood |
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artistic / moon in sagittarius |
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music |
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Coldplay // Green Eyes |
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so the
sirens went off
they chased you out of your mind
just when I started to grow a garden;
"how selfish of me
to need something to hold on to!"
so I
stole a sweet sparrow
swallowed it and let it sing for me
the sun in my mouth, like warm glowing oil
// coo quack cluck -ku.ku.ru- //
I've always been kind of an ugly duckling. Big forehead, funny lip shape, nose piggish at best, kind of far-apart eyes. Coarse hair, one tooth with a funny tilt that I hate. Scars in weird places. But one secret that I'm comfortable sharing now is that I've found myself very good at pretending to be a beautiful swan. But you know, most swans wouldn't give you the time of day. Most are aggressive and very unfriendly--but me, no, I'm just a simple sort of duck in pretty white feathers. I've fashioned a lovely costume out of things I've picked up along the way, with a kind of foolhardy construction. Glue and such dripping everywhere, you know what I mean. I can't help if I found the opportunity to transform myself rather dazzling.
So I got a little carried away by wings scheduled to melt any moment. And as soon as I came down, the shit poured into me--and I thought, "If I'd only waited, I'd probably not be stuck here in this hole." There's always warning signs for things like that, right?
But I don't want just any kind of beauty. I want the ferocious kind of beauty that you know will leave you with a sad song written about you if you ever decide to tamper with its perfection. Not necessarily sexual, but piercing. I don't need to be sexually attractive because the kind of beauty I seek to create is revealed slowly in other ways. The kind of beauty that with one glance will crush you while at the same time exposing its vulnerability, leaving you with poetic graffiti in your locker, dissonant melodies, poison in your drink, or brains blown out onto a canvas with your name on it. Disgusting and lovely at the same time, like being suffocated by satin ribbons. I guess you're right; that's not a healthy perception of beauty. But it is my own.
My most recent meal consisted of green soba with green curry and green vegetables with green tea. I guess it was kind of a mindless choice, but do you ever feel like you're missing a color in your life? For example, I felt like I needed blue at one moment, so I bought a lot of blue clothing and pillows, etc. And earlier last year I felt like I lacked purple, so consequently, everything in my bathroom has become purple, from the loofah to the shampoo and conditioner to the lavender body wash. But personally, I like the color gold, so anything gold is definitely going on my body in one way or another. But it's funny--green is my least favorite color, and yet most of the important people in my life have been associated with the color green in some way. Jupiter girl, the girl with the guitar, the girl with olive skin, the girl that's every shade of green ever, green paint splatter girl, those green eyes, and my grandmother. I miss my green boys and girls; but I can't ever seem to be able to keep them, so I guess I'll just settle for whichever colors come along. But I was okay with accepting whatever color I may see in you, at whatever time.
When the trees come into bud again
and the leaves are freshly green,
I want to show my smile
more natural than now;
I'll tell him how I feel
when the wind changes...
// cocoon //
Everybody says that time heals everything--but what of the wretched hollow, the endless space that always exists between two people? How can you tell if you're in a cocoon, slowly turning into something beautiful; or merely hiding out in a dark shell under the delusion that this kind of "alone time" will allow you change yourself? What's the difference between space to breathe versus excessive isolation? Are you just going to wait it out and see? Is that how all the world's precious time is best spent? It's sad to think that I was merely admiring the scenery while you were battling that kind of anxiety and confusion. That said, I think things will probably get lighter even if they never get any better. And hopefully I'll grow wings--real ones--in the meantime.
Can a visionary ever be happy? Isn't it the visionary's job to imagine things as better (or sometimes worse) as they actually are? It's not just creativity; it's downright wishful thinking. And that kind of attitude about life must indicate deep dissatisfaction, right? I can't ever figure out if I'm an artist or if I'm just disappointed, because those two things are somehow intertwined. I constantly feel like the artist without paint, the poet without words, the musician without music, the lover alone without love. It's that kind of conviction that makes things like this so difficult for me. But for a moment, I felt like I had the paint, poetry, and music. I had more than enough to share with the world and what's left is a gaping hole. Which is funny, because I still see color in the world even though all the light should have faded away with that experience. That's the kind of lingering mirage that comes with momentary happiness, I guess. It wasn't an illusion.
I don't know when I will be able to look back on this month fondly. But when I do, I know it will be a good day. Even today, when I woke up, all of the world's colors burst through my window. It was an interesting feeling, but it comes and goes, like a passing dream. I can't help but want to hold onto it forever. I guess it seems a little silly that I was so affected... but I do pretty silly things most of the time, actually, even if no one notices.
doll parts
bad skin
doll heart
red bits on blue skin
It should just be enough that we were close. But no matter how close two people become mentally or physically, the atoms between them spread out into infinity--you just have to examine closely enough to see things from that perspective. I guess that kind of glance at life scares most people. On that note, an ant crawled up my back the other day; I winced slightly, some latent thing about scar tissue, and then realized that my body must seem like a veritable universe to a creature like an ant. If you look at it that way, it makes people like you and me pretty awesome. I wonder if creatures like ants ever feel as lost as they seem in this big world.
On the other hand, if you zoomed out on planet Earth, we'd all kind of look like ants, I bet, trying to crash into each other in all sorts of new and interesting ways. Look at the thousands of people around you at any one moment in this city; ever wonder what they're thinking or where they're going? If they seem lonely, it's probably not an illusion. Ever wonder who their most important person is, or their most important experience, or how they live life? We live in such a small world here in this city, so if someone cares about you in a genuine way, it seems strange to want to throw it away. I can't imagine how that feels, when all I ever want is to be truly reached. We're somehow very aware of the wide gap between ourselves and others, so we get close, we get touched, get discouraged, get held tight, get prim, and get touched again before finally pulling ourselves together and retreating back into that safe space. Space, maybe, is our worst enemy and best friend. We're always trying to condense the space between two people but at the same time we can never have enough.
So, do you ever feel as lost as you really are? I've already pinpointed my loneliness, held onto it and went to great lengths to nurture it. It's funny that even with that kind of experience you can still remain a stranger to yourself. A blur.
got lost in the maze
that leads to you
a splinter in my finger
I think it's you in me
One lovely thing indicative of this particular brand of pain--the culmination of each little splinter and stab wound--is that the sadness causes music to become so real. Little papercuts with every downbeat. All I want to ever hear are those kinds of little miracles. What is so attractive about pain, anyway? After all, if you're going to stab at me, why not go ahead and give me all you've got? It's your only chance, so anything else seems senseless to me. I've learned a lot from being alone; even so, I felt that I could do anything as long as my hand was being held... even if held so tight as to crush the bones. I want those bittersweet experiences to characterize my life. Do you think it strange to want to be comforted and mistreated at the same time? Is it humorous to you?
I want to get back to that place. My mind was so clear; but I've since then become foggy, so I'm not sure I can explain exactly what that kind of clarity felt like. Mostly because I'm not used to that feeling, I guess. But all the little yellow sticky notes and memos and to-do lists in my mind were wiped clean away. I no longer felt the stab of knives in my back, and all the mental clutter and cobwebs and dust suddenly melted into sweetness. How do I recapture that? How can I reclaim what I feel is rightfully mine? I can hardly resign myself from thinking about whether or not it was actually good. But the brightness I see in today's sky, I think, lets me know that life actually does hold that kind of warmth. But it's fading now even as I write this; if it all goes out, what meaning will my life hold? I want you to stare into my eyes and say my name. I want to be able to summon that feeling on a whim.
Cause I really want to;
but I don't know how to
最後の秒、僕は君にキスした。
そんな涙のためだけに生き続ける。
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| [[ Thanks LP ]] |
[ July 28th | 13:35 pm] |
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mood |
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 contemplative // moon in libra |
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music |
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God is an Astronaut // When Everything Dies |
] |
I know I don't always realize how sleazy it is messing with these guys,
but something about just being with you slapped me right in the face,
nearly broke me in two
It's a mark I've taken hard and I know
I will carry with me for a long, long time
I should care that you don't have a dime--I should care that I don't, either. But what's nine years anyway? What were the last twenty? Whatever happened to a boyfriend--the kind of guy who tries to win you over? Cause, you know, I want a boyfriend, I want all that boring old shit like letters and sodas, the shit in books, the bullshit that "betters yourself."
I don't care who's reading this but I just want you to know that no matter who he is, don't trust him. He won't solve fucking anything, not a single riddle.
fuck and run, fuck and run, even when I was seventeen
fuck and run, even when I was twelve
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| HOT AND COLD |
[ July 4th | 19:22 pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 cynical // moon in sagittarius |
] |
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music |
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OLIVIA // sailing free |
] |
君が絶えずに紡いでた、私の心の地図を広げ。
でも、願いが生まれたら、一人でそれを生きるしかない。
Remember that game where someone makes you search for something by guessing exhaustively? Yeah, this will be kinda like that.
I dread all those phone calls and all those bills and having to talk to all those people no one ever wants to talk to. I guess one could say I'm rather avoidant. That said, I'm starting to wonder if I can manage to look you in the eye again--I mean, I know it's been a while or whatever, but I thought I'd prepared myself pretty extensively during our quality time not hardly knowing each other. I thought that was what I've been doing all these years. There's a nice proverb about fooling people that I plan to recite in the near future; even so, for some reason, it's way easier to fool yourself than to try and fool other people. They always see right through, isn't that weird?
愛よりも強い気持ちで、
すべてを感じられる。
That whole heart-melty thing is all very sentimental in books and movies about love actually doing this or that, but in real life--I mean, in the modern world--isn't it more akin to an epic waste of one's time? Then again, I'm a first-rate time-waster, so technically I should be good to go. But in an effort to spare my dignity, it's not at all about you, it's about the whole fucking rubber band thought ball word vomit universe and all the people trying to get out. It's about all those crazy people shooting up, shooting each other, trying to draw their way out of the paper bag that is planet Earth. That concept should merit something, albeit in the form of a cryptic message. That thing I mentioned seemed to go way over your head, anyway.
So, am I getting any warmer?
ところで、君はそれをきっと見つけるよ。
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| BRIDGE TO THE SKY |
[ April 14th | 14:24 pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 confused / moon in sagittarius |
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music |
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M83 // Kim & Jessie |
] |
// Bridge to the sky //
I saw a raincloud over your building this morning. Not really the dark, menacing kind; more like the soothing grey kind. It obscured the path to the sky, made me want to see you again, but I don’t think I can. I was listening to a song about colors when I suddenly realized that my life really didn’t have much of any. (Colors, that is.) Just a big, grey, tangled mass. I thought of you appearing when across the road I saw a line of school children wearing sun-yellow rain caps. Warm feelings kept piling up--it was then that I said a little prayer for you, and maybe even one for myself.
ふわり笑顔、
不意に涙
It seems I'm going out on a limb--a limb with a bunch of crazy people already sitting on it. A bough about to break, perhaps? Or haven’t you ever thought that maybe this whole planet is one big, crazy tree holding everyone up, branches ready to snap? I live in this strange place where people kind of come and go. Whether it's because they're only here for a semester, or because they run out of money, or because I can't be bothered to maintain healthy relations, or because they jump in front of oncoming trains (called "accidents" here), people just keep leaving. It really puts a perspective on my time spent here, the thought that it could really end any day now. And maybe that wouldn't be so bad.
It’s like drowning in sand--or fog, or shadows. I'm this dim little beacon out at sea and everyone else is a pretty ship that sails by. They all look well-maintained and full of bright lights, and I just kind of float around for days, feeding a buoyant smile. Trying to guide others, getting nowhere, wishing I were a ship instead-- but oh, yeah, I just realized that I don't know what I'm saying anymore. It's been months, you know, since I had any semblance of a coherent thought. Perhaps it's the second-language thing. (But that can't be right, because fucking hell scratch scratch chicken scratches because fucking oh my god, I can't even go there. I want to dig you up. I want to hold my grandmother's hand.)
You melt my heart with your
little rampant waves
I can paint your soul
in the craziest colors
I'm not really sure where to start. I'm not even sure if I can properly write everything I'm feeling--not necessarily because I can't find the words, but because I have been for the first time made aware of prying eyes. Until recently, I've never had a problem expressing (in writing) what was most important. Other than that, everything in the real world is mostly for decoration, like armor. I find myself hyper-conscious of the mood around me, and I've been advised on more than one occasion to watch my back. I'm so stupid, always getting caught in these kinds of traps. Why did I paint the bulls-eye across my chest? What is it that the seemingly happy people really want to know? All the smiling faces wield a curiosity that twists into me like a knife.
// the floating world //
So I have finally spread out the big map. Why does it seem wrong to go after something I want? (That applies to anything. Love, money, a career, even food. A beacon in a sea of guilt.) I won't really get into it--but that said, you should be here by now, and seeing as how you haven't come yet, I guess it's my turn to pull out the map and start fucking looking. But I seem to have gotten quicksanded by the mysteries of the floating world--so I just have to trust that somewhere out there, even in this grey city, is a bridge to the sky.
I want to tell you that I'm so envious of you. I want to tear this animal shit off my face. It's still so dazzling to me.
So, what do you think?
somebody lurks in the shadows; somebody whispers your name
M83 – Kim & Jessie http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9yvItZAjfY
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| [[ WANTED ]] |
[ February 28th | 12:32 pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 crushed // moon in aries |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Ayumi Hamasaki // About You |
] |
I broke something today.
We can't always imagine other people's pain--it's hard for us to share it; hard to believe in something that's invisible, formless and sometimes undetectable. Especially in the middle of such a tightly-wound grey city, where you can hardly hold yourself together. People just laugh weakly and with a resigned look as if to say, "Well, that's life, isn't it?"
(Maybe more than one thing.)
// poster of a wanted man //
What happened to the person who could get what he wanted without making any sacrifices? It's no good simply pretending to be unafraid. You see, you have the thing which I've longed for--the thing I lost and will never get again, no matter how strongly I wish for it. It's something I've wanted more than anything else, even if I didn't realize it before. This sort of thing is deceptive like that. It's so dazzling to me.
I shut the door to my heart with a violent noise
And lost the key to open it a long time ago
What happened to the beautiful girls
who I thought could get everything?
それがとても眩しい...
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