Deathless Ditties

Sisters, thinkers, dreamers, musicians.

[abreathofmyinspiration]

I forgot what it's like to be in an intense and insular space for a few days. You start to recognize people, who you haven't spoken to, but maybe you've just been seeing them for a day, observing all the beautiful people and magnetic mascs walking around the place. Maybe I knew some of these people in a different life, the world is small enough. Maybe someone's face can feel familiar if you've seen enough of their art or heard enough of their music.

I walked down to the dock and one person was there, had just gotten out of the lake - I went to look and found myself face to face with the one person everyone knows, swimming before everyone else descended. Maybe they were avoiding this exact interaction, but I managed to have a normal chat without saying "I've sung your songs at protests until I can't sing anymore, and art rarely makes me want to cry but every once in a while that gets to me"

[abreathofmyinspiration]

It is so hard to want less than everything from this

[abreathofmyinspiration]

Thoughts on a year.

Everyone noted a year after the first lockdown, first shutdown. But I felt more like thinking about a year this month, and after it had been a year since we met, or whatever it is we did.

This has not been what I expected. It has been better, and worse. Probably more worse.

I've lost myself in the pandemic, in I don't know what else, and you point it out, and it hurts. I don't want to be like this, but I don't know if I'm ready to be something else right now.

I'm not ready to break out of the pandemic bubble we became, but I'm getting there. The fantasy world we're in isn't perfect, it's hard and complicated and it didn't move forward well. But it's sheltered, and that's how I seem to want to be right now.

I could - and maybe should - write more about positives and his I'm starting to feel open and excited about things. It's there, too, a little. But right now I'm more sad than not and still here, loving badly. Thinking about many possible futures and feeling paralyzed by them. Soon I will find a way to feel paralyzed by none of them. It will feel like melting into trust.

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I don't have words, I think this is beautiful, it feels beautiful, I am a sappy blob

[abreathofmyinspiration]

Well, I'm here and it's something.

Something about taking things from the abstract to the real makes them vulnerable to not being felt as perfect or pure, though this porch is maybe both.

We watched the sun set from here and feel like strange but also like old friends but also together.

I feel different in this person's eyes and even more different here than through a screen.

I feel much more closed off than through a phone.

[abreathofmyinspiration]

I often think that talking to certain people will make me feel a certain way, I measure myself by how talking to you makes me feel grounded. Sometimes the space between that ground and me is insurmountable, I'm lost and I can tell, I've strayed somewhere that I don't want to be.

Today we talked and I wanted to know how far I was from where I often think I want to be, but I could have looked around to realize that my feet were already solidly planted.

[abreathofmyinspiration]

I've been gradually filling more journals,

I have 5 or 6 going and I keep switching between them, piecing my life together from this period would be practically impossible, not to mention this blog which is basically the same but half an inch more public?

I don't know what happened today, I felt weird and unsettled and also like writing and reading Octavio paz and listening to Chopin. I have no idea why.

I feel like I need to talk to someone but I don't know who, I've talked to all the people who would be that person recently, but that's what my unsettled feels like I guess, some kind of need to process with someone but not knowing who that is, and not exactly knowing what needs to be processed, either.

I guess the Tumblr void is another attempt.

[abreathofmyinspiration]

I woke up last night in the midst of a thunderstorm, and weathered it half asleep. It was 1:30 and a night before that I hadn't even gone to bed but tonight I had been asleep for hours, it felt like the latest time ever to exist, the deep of the night, the dark is unfathomable now as I look out of my sunny window.

It is an experience to realize you are calmer than you once were, or is it just that my energies are in different places? The way I am handling many things right now feels almost like a stranger, mostly in a good way.

More thoughts soon? I've been wanting to post things but concerned about posting things but it's the internet but ugh

[abreathofmyinspiration]

Thoughts on things

Moving on is such a strange experience, you don't know if you have or if you should or what it even means

Sometimes it feels like I'm erasing years of my life and I haven't changed at all, and sometimes it feels like so much of my life is wrapped up in this relationship that I don't even remember who I was before it.

I'm remembering to enjoy music and enjoy people and live my life the way I want to

I accidentally set up a tinder date for Valentine's day, a day which had rarely meant anything to me, but I keep getting worried that my sadness is a bomb waiting to go off and I don't know when it will again

[abreathofmyinspiration]

This is the end of my summer, at least according to my bullet journal.

The look up/listen to page does not accurately reflect the things I need to look up/listen to, theres a whole seperate list on my phone.

Tiny plants have a new home. I think I’ll be able to feel settled here eventually. I’m preparing myself to feel sad here as well.

[abreathofmyinspiration]

meet someone

Make a connection

go separate places

Usually

But they describe someone else as

A deeply beautiful person.

You know you are not,

To them,

To whom?

[abreathofmyinspiration]

boy wonder

He says, “I’m so lucky.”

He says, “You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

He says, “Am I crushing you? I’m crushing ON you.”

He says, “You always make me feel so loved.”

He says, “Am I dreaming?”

He says, “I may be a bitch, but I’m YOUR bitch.”

He says, “I like things that burst sometimes. If I didn’t, that’d be hypocritical.”

He says, “Every part of your body is so perfect for you.”

He says, “I could kiss you forever. Maybe I will.”

He says, “You’re magnetic.”

He says, “Thank you for trusting me.”

[abreathofmyinspiration]

What strange love this is, this non-romantic non-platonic adoration, this stolen kisses when we’re alone, winks and eyes when we’re not, this compounding affection, calling each other cute, kissing each other’s bodies clean, making each other smile, both calling ourselves the lucky ones, both agreeing we shouldn’t date, neither making clear if we want to, both enjoying what this love is, whatever it is.

He says, “Love me?” I say, “Have I ever not?”

[abreathofmyinspiration]

Grief comes at such strange times.

We talk about triggers relating to panic attacks, or bad memory flashes, or the like, but there are triggers for everything. Every emotion.

Songs I played with Kirk trigger my grief. I don’t know if it’s missing him or just a grief for what is no longer, but it’s visceral and tangible. I opened up the recording of us singing “Upwards Over the Mountain” and couldn’t take it. It may not be an open wound, but it’s definitely still a bruise.

[abreathofmyinspiration]

This isn’t much of a post, but this was about a year ago, and recently I noticed I can now listen to Iron & Wine without it hurting. It reminds me of Kirk, but the pain isn’t really there anymore. Actually moving on, maybe? A scary thought, stuck between fear and relief, perhaps both of letting go.

[abreathofmyinspiration]

Last year, when we passed from 2016 to 2017, I was so positive and excited about the future, and content with myself, if feeling odd about my recent breakup. This year, I feel weird, worried, without much energy for excitement, even though there are things to look forward to. Last year, second semester took some bad turns. Maybe this one won’t.

[abreathofmyinspiration]

He says, “it’s so good to see you!”

He says, “you’re smile is SO cute.”

He says, “command me. Tell me what you want.”

He says, “kiss me.”

He says, “is there anything you want me to do?”

He says, “what’s the most important thing? Consent.”

He says, “are you comfortable?”

He says, “I can’t imagine hanging out with you and not getting a boner.”

He says, “don’t apologize.”

He says, “you’re HOT.”

He says, “you’re making me blush.”

He says, “I’m so happy you’re here.”

[abreathofmyinspiration]

The days after my worst days, are often my best days; one day I don’t feel like i’ll have the energy to get up to eat dinner, and the next day I’m legitimately planning my touring contemporary ensemble and Dalcroze teaching artist successful life with 90% confidence that it will happen. Then eventually I come to my normal state of equilibrium - hopeful and excited, but apprehensive for the future.

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Reading TATWD was interesting. I felt like i could see through it. To John maybe? not even that - just to the way it is a story for the purpose of disseminating thoughts and feelings, maybe. anyway, I’ve lived the awkward romance at this point enough that I no longer long for the fake, ideal ones. Then, once in a while something in there would really resonate with me on a deep level, when I wasn’t expecting it.