grav·i·ty (grāv'ĭ-tē) n.
The natural force of attraction exerted by a body upon objects at or near its surface, tending to draw them toward the center of said body.
It is January, Twenty Ten and I am in love.
When I created this, my plan was to come here occasionally to record my thoughts and remembrances on loves in a life which are now lost. Memoirs and repercussions of love still felt though the lovers have gone. (My apologies to Dylan Thomas).
I had no idea what was about to happen.
Before now this life had contained 7 serious romantic entanglements. Of these, 3 included a certain level of... attraction... not quite... more of an overwhelming, encompassing drive to be near the person, have the person near me and to intertwine our lives to an inextricable degree. An impetus I can only describe as "Gravity". The undeniable, unstoppable force in the universe which draws objects to one another and simply cannot be denied.
Of these 3, only 2 were fully-realized. These 2 contained various levels of happiness, sadness, frustration and self-destruction. Ultimately none came to an end which justified the energy, emotion and toll they exacted upon my life, my heart and my outlook on the world in which I remain today.
Over the last month I have come to realize that I am now deeply ensconced in the third relationship which is rooted in Gravity. Only now, for the first time in this life, due to my age, my experience and the particular nuances of the object of my desire and affection, I am able to appreciate what is happening in real time.
It only seemed right to leave some mark to express what it is, what I feel, what I wish for and what I hope it becomes. Something I've failed to do in the past.
And so the story unfolds...
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Just For Me
Originally I created a place to come and drop my whimsical ideas and insignificant musings. Due to timing and circumstance it slowly (actually, come to think of it, it wasn't slow at all. It was almost immediate) spiraled into a pit of misery, self-loathing and wanton, thrashing anger at the world.
Years later that was tied to this.
And last year there was this.
In both of those public/private little worlds there was a specific audience of one. Those audiences of one have now gone... or rather I have moved on, unable to get reflected back to me what I needed from them... so I stopped speaking.
But I still feel the need from time to time to make note of things, record what is happening, for fear that if I don't it will be as it has always been. That the lack of a witness (other than myself) will mean the events never took place at all.
I always come back to a lyric I wrote at the height of my artistic pursuits, at the depth of my despair: "I should have written it down. All these things were only in my head".
And when I go, so too will they.
Unless they are left behind for someone to validate by laying witness... even if it is second hand.
Years later that was tied to this.
And last year there was this.
In both of those public/private little worlds there was a specific audience of one. Those audiences of one have now gone... or rather I have moved on, unable to get reflected back to me what I needed from them... so I stopped speaking.
But I still feel the need from time to time to make note of things, record what is happening, for fear that if I don't it will be as it has always been. That the lack of a witness (other than myself) will mean the events never took place at all.
I always come back to a lyric I wrote at the height of my artistic pursuits, at the depth of my despair: "I should have written it down. All these things were only in my head".
And when I go, so too will they.
Unless they are left behind for someone to validate by laying witness... even if it is second hand.
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