goodbye

it's a constant, quiet sadness
the whirring of an electric fan in my heart
the white noise to these white walls
and jaundiced empty halls

I wrote you my soul
and you threw it away
like so much empty chatter
though you didn't know, perhaps
that the words didn't matter

I wish you had seen me
alone in the world
crying my silent tears
in the gathering gloom
on the unmade bed of a private room

I wish you had heard
the aching sobs that shook me,
despairing, as I knelt on the floor
if only sobs could soar across the ocean ...
I don't know if it would have made a difference

I wish you had read the letters I wrote
I have half a mind to burn them
the other half wants to send them
it would be my only stab --
to show you, unveiled, all the love you could have had

you will always be my first love
and I will never forget you.
I learned that hope is a powerful thing
I learned some ears are deaf
no matter how sweetly you sing

goodbye, my dear coward.
this heroine has to go now.
... if only I knew how

fresco

some days I am light and others I'm weary
the weather is clear but my heart is dreary
weighed down with emptiness, a burden so light
that I accept meekly and don't try to fight
I've painted it onto the walls of my heart
this picture of sorrow that one day will start
to fade and to crumble and flake off the walls
to tumble and float as it gradually falls
a dusting to fill up my heart's concave floor
with remnants of memories that once came before
to muffle the step of new feelings that come
that once I ran to but now sneak away from
a cushion to catch me next time I let slip
those fool words "I love you" escape from my lip.

natural mystic

bob marley is a genius.
in so many ways.
and his music makes me really happy.
or calm.
or something.

"There's a natural mystic blowing through the air;
If you listen carefully now you will hear.
This could be the first trumpet, might as well be the last:
Many more will have to cry
Many more will have to die - don't ask me why.
Things are not the way they used to be,
I won't tell no lie;
One and all have to face reality now.
'Though I've tried to find the answer to all the questions they ask.
'Though I know it's impossible to go livin' through the past -
Don't tell no lie."

respect.

*and yes, that is real graffiti, and no, I don't need to credit anyone with this picture
because, yes indeed, I took it myself.

take two

I'm not sure this really counts as fragmentary portraiture, but I like it anyway. this is me and allison documenting the first wearing of our brand new shoes in our favorite haunt - la defense

attention à la marche en descendant du train

I was on the metro, standing in a fairly crowded car, but not too scrunched. we stopped, the station was françois verdier, I think, one stop before mine, and a couple guys got on - one standing right in front of the door was quite short, beige shirt and dark jeans, pretty muscular, north african with clear light skin and a just-prominant-enough nose.

but apparently someone else got on, too. a tall, built man got on one door down and started making his way over to our side of the car, repeating I don't remember what and pointing his finger at the short kid. short kid's friend was standing between the two and was kind of holding scary guy off while he kept shouting and pointing his finger in short kid's face, pushing it into his cheek, getting more and more angry, even slapping him once. all short kid did was say "excusez-moi" a few times in a neutral tone and step back as much as possible against the door while his friend tried to hold the guy off.

all this is taking place in one metro stop, but by the time we stopped at jean jaurès, I was getting a little worried at the increasing volume and violence of scary guy's repetitions and glad to be getting out. but I had to go past all this to get out the door. apparently, angry guy was getting off, too, and on the way out, he grabs short kid's neck and tries to push him down, but short kid wriggled out of it with enough force to be firm but not enough to get a rise out of the other guy. and I slid out with a few others.

as I went up the escalator, I looked back down to the metro and saw short kid still inside, unhappy but calm, as the metro pulled away and I gave him a little half smile as I thought to myself - good job! seriously, I commend him for staying calm, for not getting angry, even though he hadn't done anything. he was short, but he wasn't puny, he could have put up a pretty good fight along with his friend, but he was smart. and he wouldn't give in to a rise. and I was proud of him.

this from your occasional reporter on "hope for humanity metro moments". til next time.

july monthly special

my offering for the july monthly special of fragmentary portraiture.


these hands belong to my dear oceane.
they are creative and capable.
she is a very hard worker
and puts her heart & soul into everything she does.
she turns doing into creating.

compulsive

saw harry potter again. went with benjamin this time. liked it much more. though I think ron is not a very good actor and neither is ginny. and I can't believe she freaking stood there in a robe and tied his shoe for him ... oh epargne-moi!

wuthering heights is ... unbelievable. as in, the characters and their behavior are completely unbelievable. and I tend to prefer realism. even fantasy needs a healthy dose of realism.

I think I have no self-control. ever. when it comes to ... just about everything. when I get doing something, I can't get myself to stop, be it messing with my skin, eating, being on the computer, reading ... anything. it kind of scares me.

perfect song = the fear you won't fall by joshua radin. I bought it off i-tunes last night and I think I have had it on repeat ever since.

wrote an email. a brave one. asked for answers. haven't gotten any yet.
I HATE THIS and I don't know what to do.
'don't want to feel anything, but I do, and it all comes back to you'
sometimes I feel very detached from my feelings. sometimes they are overwhelming and threaten to flood me out every couple minutes. I think I'm going to go indulge them.

there are fat moths dancing spirals around the room, like gentle vandals of the night, like windswept lovers weaving patterns in the chi.

the other day I learned a little lesson from my buddy over at freshness factor five thousand, the mraz master himself. I think it bears replication here:

"worry is what happens when you take those misfortunes on and think you have control over them. you tell yourself that you are responsible in some way for these situations. worry is a story you tell yourself and nothing more. sometimes we do it to over-express our care in a matter. other times we're looking for sympathy. there are plenty of reasons we create for worry to creep its little head in.

but the real fact is, you are responsible for nothing to begin with.

let's say you send some love to someone, but they don't reciprocate the way you expected. that's nothing to worry about. it doesn't mean they don't love you. besides, if they don't, why worry about that? if that mattered, you'd be creating that as a condition for having love in your life. unconditional love is what we practiced when we came into this world in the first place -- so it's best we get back to being that."

can't say it's eliminated worry from my life, but at least it makes me think about it. I wish I could spend my life like him -- drinking greenery and agave nectar every morning, singing and playing all day long, travelling travelling travelling, and returning home to a heaven haven of nature to rediscover spirituality (in its various forms). also wish I could have seen him live in paris. I was in toulouse ...