Searching for Pluto (part 1)

Nothing in life ever works out the way you want it to. In fact, wanting something to work out is a sure-fire way to ensure that something doesn’t happen. I knew this because every time I wanted something prior to this I had watched it fall apart. I guess a lifetime of failing to get what you want can make you cynical. I don’t know.
I did know, however, that it wasn’t going to work out for me this time, just as much as it never worked out for me before. I knew it even before I committed myself to see it through, but I didn’t care. Well, that’s wrong. I did care. I just couldn’t stop myself.
So I packed my bags. I sold my car for a lot less than it was worth. It wasn’t worth a whole lot, but definitely a lot more than I got it for it. It didn’t matter. It got me the bus ticket I needed, and all that really mattered was that I had to follow her.
I didn’t even know if she wanted me to, but I knew that I had to, because things were just so damned complicated and life was just so damned messy that if I didn’t, if I didn’t go, I’d always wonder, and I’d think, and I’d hate myself more than I already did with my wondering.
So I sold everything I owned for a measly three hundred-fifty dollars and bought myself a handle of whiskey, a carton of cigarettes, and a bus ticket to a city thirty hours away. It may as well have been half the world, or the whole world, or two worlds. It could have been Pluto.
It felt so far away as I waited half the day at the bus station. I had kept one of my guitars, but I ended up drinking a third of the handle and chain smoking so playing was the last thing on my mind. Actually I couldn’t think of anything other than the fact that I had no idea how she was going to take seeing me again. She’d be surprised, I was sure. I was also sure I’d been a complete fucking idiot. Did I really just sell everything for a bus ticket and a good solid day of drunkenness?
I was definitely a fucking idiot. People don’t fall in love anymore, love died right beside kindness around the same time greed and selfishness took over. We lived in a world where love is a toy to be played with and everyone was so damned self-centered no one bothered to see it anymore when it looked them in the eye.
That’s why she moved half the world away, and that’s why I was bound and determined to go after her. Someone had to prove the world wrong.

What is this being?

Sometimes it can be hard to take too much in at once, overwhelming really. Or perhaps the truth is always just too hard to see? And what of the thoughts that can’t be put to words and pictures and feelings and what of, what of--just being? What of that fear of being cut too deep? What of the things that are on the tip of your tongue bursting to be free? The things that you just want to scream so clearly you can taste them floating in your mouth and yet you can’t find the words. What of being so elated your heart could just stop beating? What of putting thoughts to words and words to thoughts. What of letting go of thought and only feeling. What is this world? What is this—just being?

Beneath the Sky

I haven't forgotten the blog, or abandoned you. I've just been very, very busy. I could keep you entertained with a list of excuses, but really, I don't feel like writing them, so why should anyone want to read it. Instead here's something I wrote today that will just have to suffice until I can put the time and thought into blogging once again.

There was a wind and the water made waves
lapping on our legs as we discarded clothes,
and our voices sang in laughter
drowning in the stars above
and for just that moment we were alone in the world.
Salt-sprayed lips,
unspoken words,
sealed with a kiss,
dancing amid the waves naked and alone.
And the stars themselves they mirrored us,
tiny and alone to our eyes,
blanketed by space and city glow
bouncing their light just to say hello
as we played beneath the sky
in the waves and the wind,
looking back like stars and wondering,
'where did we begin?'