barely insignificant

If I had known the graceful song I should know to slow down all the madness. I would have sung a whispered melody to calm you and keep you close. Lyrics from the ninth track on Lisbon, Torch Song. Slow down all the madness, that's exactly what you and him were thinking in chapter one. How did you two meet? It seems a long time ago now but that's what old couples say right? Before scones and afternoon tea. Do you still love the same things you used to love as a child?

Mystery Science Theater 3000, remember that? It was halfway through the laughably bad special effects that you realized you were bonding with him over a can of blue ribbon, before the hipsters had laid any claim to it. It's fun isn't it, flirting? Woozily romantic and all that before things get too heavy or too loud. All among these laughing faces, illuminated by the glare of the campy midnight movie.

Taking risks. Outside comfort zones. And I'm not talking about four strepsils at one go which makes you woozy for entirely different reasons. Was that the night you passed on a sore throat to him? It all seems so long ago doesn't it? Let's see, what else? Oh yes, the parks! I think the both of you had a worryingly untreated penchant for vandalism. What's in store for me in the direction I don't take? gaudily graffitied across the urban sprawl. Have you ever wondered about that? The direction you don't take? Is there really any point or will the myriad seemingly better possibilities just mess you up?

He's such a dreamboat isn't he? I'm pretty sure you were thinking that! Just as he was leaving and looking back at you with that sideways grin you knew so well. It's funny how beautiful people are when they're walking out the door. You left so many people, a million times. The irony hasn't been lost on anyone. You remember the windowsills, you'd perch on them with coffee in your hand and watch as he stared back. People flirt too much before they get heavy and not nearly enough after that.

Why such pretty memories? Don't be heavy, let's be light! you've told yourself a hundred times over. He's located in the song. You don't think about him during the most hurried of days and then it comes on. But I don't know the tune, it's a burden on my sorry soul. I don't have a clue, it's a weight upon my empty skull. I love seeing my old friends, I'm happy all at once, but then there's something else as well. Slow down pretty dreamer, I would have slowed. See the yards, tender goes, then it's up in wonder for all you know.

the moral instruments

the moral instruments, reflective and repetitious as the chinking chain clicks by

releasing its opaque catholic fumes as the altar refrains from spit and sputter

and the membrane holds aloft this paper thin, he it's always a he, eyes rooted upward

passes from his lips as the mass follows suit, following, oh yes they're very big on following

but less so on reason for reason would say that we value the experience which is shared

but no reason on this blistering of sundays, for it is divine oh sure and they repeat their shared divinity

how callous of me to refuse their hands, their eyes rolled back into sockets the tongues like crows

i who have perverted faith to furrow their brows on, they have practiced this i'm sure

and retooled it so those outside the little cliques may never understand, but i do and it terrifies

how faggots are shall we say not the correct term but fret not because they're due to cook anyway

another thing you get off on, light, but luminosity has been diluted by superstition

and the moral instruments clicked away, how lucky we are, how golden, how shamefully grateful we should be

for how could i love without being afraid, how could i be free without consequence, how could i believe when there is nothing to assure

yet the assurance is vapid, conditional on faith alone which makes you the king of what? oh yes, the ants of the hill

i don't mean to snark, we know how upset you'll get, but somehow through superhuman good will or stupidity you still offer your prayers

so pray on my behalf, brother, sister or whatever we claim to be, and i'll think on yours.

boxing day

That part of my brain which collects and time stamps memories must be growing a little faulty, so much has happened this year and I can barely keep track of the intermittent intertwining of both the special and the mundane. As always it levels out and I am able to choose certain specifics. Why choose to archive you ask? Especially since seasoned readers realize that I often extol the immediacy of experience, that present endeavors and future possibilities should outweigh the need for constant retrospection. Well the only excuse I have is one of sentimentality, after all, how many more times will I be able to gaze at the moon and her clouds for a change? Unhurried by the merriment around us, the gentleness, the subtlety and the occasional feline (christened Scratchy on that night) rubbing herself against our hands.

-

These are snapshots of living as well as loving, in scattered chronological order, whatever leaps into thought first, with the reminder that this is good, and this is real.


1) Unwrapping presents by the poolside. I could have received rocks and I wouldn't have cared. It's not the destination, it's the journey. Only half right. It's the passengers you bring along with you and I couldn't have been more blessed.


2) Laughing and sweating and screaming and crying all within a two hour span. Singing myself hoarse, smiling at people with nothing in common other than the shared somatic experience. Wandering around an empty park watching as they dismantled the lights and the metal as a little dream solidified itself in my mind.


3) It is your day. You are surrounded by friends. In the company of men as you called it. We've helped each other through our fair share of ups and downs, you said the biggest problems were the breakups. I laughed. We're both too cool to admit we care. Everything in our stride my friend, and everything on the chin.


4) We huddled together after the hours of prayers which ironically made us feel worse but seemed to cheer her up a little. I've never felt like a responsible person much less a brother, but if there's anyone I feel that for it's you.


5) Conversations that run deep into the night. And in between them the comfort of silence and the silence of comfort. I rack my brain for something more special but it eludes me. In everything, I wish you love.


Woven within these memories is the sense of discovery. Of self, of others, of the world around. The delirium, foolishness, boredom, exhilaration, confusion and wonder which has characterized this year. And perhaps most of all, excitement for all that is still to come.