I dunno if I've got the literary sense today, which only makes it more curious that I decided to blog again.
But it was just my imagination
Runnin' away with me
It was just my imagination
Runnin' away with me...
It's a Motown sorta day.
I've been entangled in a sort of divine social phenomena, y'know. Creatures of unknowable beauty grace my presence so often these days, it's something I fear I'll never learn to catalogue as anything but a mystery.
In her earnestness she revealed to me a purity of motive, and an honesty in her resolve.
"Be optimistic."
You can believe I felt like a real jackass. Why does she bother, why does she want to hear from me? I'll never figure what kind of light I might bring into the lives of my peers.
And I'm not sure what I ever did to convince myself I was less than worthy of love.
Once again I'm pulled back into the safety of the quiet storm, Christ.
What I've learned of myself is that I've a tendency towards the saccharine and genteel. I'm choosing to allow this character a day in the sun.
How many girls am I gonna let myself get all doughy for? Maybe a thousand more.
Something between a whore and a rake, and I've no plans to get rid of that arrythmia driving my mind. Not a single person has been alike, y'know? Hard to shake my head and move on.
The only thing that can motivate me to actually write a song these days is romantic ideation. These personas, these figures, they're just more intriguing than anything else I'd characterize my art as. Maybe that's shameful, I don't give a shit.
Y'know, Beaumont Banshee Girls, BBG, is about a bunch of different people. It was about a common thread of regret, right? The communitave elements of these stories make it so the song can be about all sorts of shit.
You guys should have seen her.
I was a little out of sorts, looking through the dark, y'know. Especially cause I was leaving and she was walking in, right? Short little thing, right? At least that's how I remember it.
I still remember her voice, girls. You'll probably have to kill me, but I can't get my subconscious to shut up about her. I haven't seen her in some time though, is the thing. Missed the train by a hair at the bar, kept it at "maybe next time." She seems nice.
You would not believe the fucking song that pulled on my shuffle.
You blow my mind...
I'm so alive with you...
You blow my mind...
I'm satisfied...
We gotta nuke Charlie Wilson's house.
And right after that I'm hearing "Is It A Crime?"
We can leave Ms Helen Folasade Adu well alone. She's our matriarchal empress, after all.
Maybe listening to RnB and blogging can help me get my mind off these angels, y'know.
Did you hear about the heavenly mystery from Brazil? We still don't know how that story begins. They're a person of whom I cannot speculate on more than I can just... wonder.
May God protect them, y'know.
I think the only dudes I ever talk to anymore are my Dad and Cronkite. And maybe like one or two of the dudes in the org. Gradually I'm just seeing a diminishing presence of guys in my life, idk.
I dunno if I've got the stomach for the cattiness of a lot of sceney stuff, is the thing. Dudes are dudes even if they aren't straight. At least this is my experience, right? Maybe I'm just a dickhead.
I guess that's why I just can't let myself get excited about anyone but this beauty I've gotta close my heart to. Because the first spectre of grace, they're not in the realm of the sense anymore, but there's no risk to a venture towards knowing them better.
This isn't the case for the more aching figure of my pining. Oh, fucks sake, I can't say enough about them. This one is different.
This radiance which tears my eye, how could I think about anything, anyone but them?
Part of me hopes I can stop thinking about this archangel I've met, right? Every chance I get to help them out or talk to them when I'm doing my social duty in the org feels like a psychological massage. I could talk about anything they ask me, y'know?
I noticed myself looking at them a bit longer than I should have on Saturday. What a JACKASS. This sort of thing is like poison to organizing, I can't think about them anymore than I already have.
You should have seen them. Their eyes are like nothing you have ever seen. Warm rays of light peering through the windows of the church, I might have mistaken their kindly presence for a sort of providence. What a setting to meet such a revelation of peace. It might kill me to stare too intently in their eyes, it feels like.
Pray tell of the promise of optimism, their voice is like hope in the form of a song. I could get lost in their hair for miles and miles, they've got that warm sort of darkness that puts you to sleep. To put myself in her service felt like conscripting myself into duty towards the living form of a constellation.
I need to get some coffee. It's time to shut up!
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