more behind me than ahead. there’s your life you see? out there before you, and you rush. you rush like mad. there’s no need sweet child, slow down. it’s not a race, it’s not even a marathon. you’ll get there, eventually.
it will all come to you: good things and bad. loose teeth and growth spurts. hand holding and first kisses. shallow breaths and long sighs. skinned knees and acne. rough lousy mornings and secret late nights.
slow down. take it from me who has less ahead than behind. and the end, the end comes soon enough to all things: the end of childhood, the end of firsts, the end of youth, the end of hope, the end of innocence, the end of pride.
then it all begins again: but not for you, never again for you. never, ever again.
listen: time, time is a relentless and ruthless beast.
tap n tap
write like this, drean like this, at a pace, slowly, like kneading bread, all muscle snd torque and anguish. impossible.
age and wine
drink this. wine. i hate wine. it reminds me of churches and old people. people waiting to die. people wistful of times long gone. people that stare at you in villages in faraway homelands when you visit. people who once knew better, think they know better, but know nothing at all because the world they once lived in, grew in, loved in, is long gone. people who marvel over toasters and think the bread tastes funny. people who believe in bakeries and gossip. people who shook their heads slowly form side to side and reminisce of better behaving children, better dressed men, better behaved women. people who no longer drink wine, who never even had a taste for it.
live work breathe despair
live work breathe despair
rough night, torn towels, a razor blade caught in the grout
eyes worked over twice and thin, hollow, teeth set at odd angles from grinding
slow grind, from the stretch, just before it all begins again and leaves you weeping
there is no hope, only this, over and over, slow molasses roiling, thickening out
and if the bones weren’t so strong, the meat so thick
a noose would be so much handier
or a very very long journey into the void
ted at 40
To say I have never met anyone like you is an understatement. You are driven and resourceful, curious sand intuitive.
Your doggedness at times can be unnerving.
But you are also loyal and unwavering, committed and thoughtful.
Twenty years ago you noticed my name on a sheet of paper and sat beside me. Introduced yourself and made me your friend. We had some unforgettable times, dark times, and long nights that shine so brightly that strip away everything else.
We’ve built families out of nothing, we’ve found happiness and yet we still long for more. I should say, you do. You’ve never stopped wanting more: for yourself, for your friends, for your family.
This is perhaps the most important lesson you’ve taught me: never be complacent, never stop.
So keep going Ted, keep striving. Look at what you’ve accomplished at 40.
Imagine how much more you can still do.
Happy birthday my dear friend.
what is happening to me (with iO)
sit with me
squandered
i am useless and without hope. i spearhead but do not lead. i can figure it out, but have nothing to show for it. i do not know how i came to this, i do not know how i’ve so little time left. a lifetime and this was it, squandered and so very alone. so untouched, unmarked, unremarkable, unscathed, but scathing, vicious, cruel and ultimately, ultimately worthless.
my fist, my god
in my mind, ioanna
in my mind ioanna, i have this vision of you. we’re driving somewhere and i glance over my shoulder. i see you, your head leaning against the window watching the world go by. shadows made by a sun cutting through leaves dances across your face. you are silent. and this is how i picture you, an immense internal world locked within you: unknowable, impenetrable, and all yours. i wish i had the keys to unlock it, to climb in and sit with you as we watch the world go by. when i say i wish i was a child again so that we could be friends, i am not kidding. i’ve squandered much of my life and i wish i could make a list of the things you need to be careful of, what possibly your genetic structure will be prone to. but that’s impossible. i cannot live for you, let alone live through you. i can only watch and hope to understand the solace you find yourself in. i can desperately hope it is nothing like my own.