Never Goodbye. Good Journey.

     

    I have always struggled with my emotions. There are so many things I wish I could rationalize and make sense of and apologize for. I've had to come to terms with the fact that mine is a mind unable to perform the way it does for most. As a child, I turned inward and made my own worlds so I could find a place to fit in. Still to this day, I struggle to understand my place in the world around me. I'm blessed to have friendships that defy logic and I've found family because of pure chance. I have encountered people who have believed in me more than I ever could conceive possible. I have been lucky to cross paths with those who would never give up on me... no matter what.

    My friend John was one of those people. My paths have crossed a lot of faces during my many turns around this rock. The first day I met John, he made me laugh... not an easy task. And on that first day that I moved into management, sitting in the basement office with 'The Clash' blasting on my boss's computer... John sneaked in to raid Xochitl's candy drawer, looked at me with all his heart and said "shhh, don't let her know. Also, you're gonna be awesome!"

    John was out the door before I could respond. But I still remember the idiot grin I held after. Someone I'd barely interacted with gave me the kindness and compassion and consideration to reassure me on that first day. I think about that interaction and I still laugh.

    My favorite memory was during a really bad snow storm. We all lived in the area but, thanks to New England, commuting home wasn't an option. I was invited up to my boss's room of the night and I had no idea how funny that night would be. John came prepared: I knocked on the door, I was welcomed with a nip of Fireball whiskey, and 'Nelly' was playing on a speaker. Within three minutes I nearly broke my ribs laughing as John performed a stripper-like display on Xochitl while Leanne and I tried to stop crying from hysteria.

That is who John was.... laughter. He was joy and levity and kindness and sincerity. He embodied the best of all the people I've been blessed to meet along my path. I'm a better person for knowing John, and I will miss his influence and smile. But John will never be gone because of the impact and value he had on those lives he impacted.

Good journey, my friend. May you stand in peace with slow sunsets and quiet, stellar nights. I love you, you magnificent maniac... and I will hold my glass up until we can spill drinks again.

Excising The Scars

 How do you say goodbye?

    How do you learn to move on from a wound that has been a part of you for so long? When every moment since the time that scar formed... when that pain has been a lingering nuisance in the subconscious for so long... how do you let go?

I can't forget those moments together.

    Not the grandiose ones of parties or birthdays or revelry....

        but just the plain simple moments where the world was quiet around us and there was just the sound of us...

            ...breathing.

I don't recognized the face that looks back at me in the mirror. 

So many lines, so many grey hairs that weren't there when it mattered.

And yet I know it's me.

I sit by a river that was never ours, but a place that has become my solace. I read and listen to the wails of frustrated geese and taste the scent the industrial waterway before me, the people milling about, the heavy roadways riding like artificial arteries across the way and I find myself suspended.

        Am I still there,

            or are we still going to be here?

I can't really remember myself before you.

    Is this me even a thing without you?

    

        But I can't sit by the river forever.

Time has that nasty habit of continuing on. Just like that churning Merrimack before me, it pushes forward... cascading over islets and downed branches and boulders and buried hopes. The push of the current never ceases.

Night falls over this quiet extinct city. The sounds of life and love and joy and misery and memory resonate like shockwaves throughout the empty cold twilight. I watch the few passersby pass by, their aimless strangling a beautiful bob in the ebb, the serene bliss of those momentary distractions.

I'm not who I used to be. Neither are you.

    We are not anymore.

As the sky darkens and the stars fall and that condescending crescent grin moves higher over the settling night, I stow my book and I stare out at the onyx paint slick that has become the river.

I can't see it anymore... but I can still hear it.

I can't see you anymore. I can't see what we were anymore.

I'm not sure I can hear it anymore either.

But I hold that sound.

I look up at stars that I see alone.

I feel that scar on my arm from that night.

I look up and I see an empty void.

I'll cary these scars forever.

But I can't rely on them anymore.

The river has continued on,

the waters are now different.

Unsteady Mirror

 I stare into that mirror and I'm haunted by what stares aback at me.

When did this become who I think I am?

Where is that ambitious miscreant who once thought the world would be their plaything? When life seemed but a blank page to write my own narrative upon?

These grey hairs stand out, more and more coming as each week continues on.

Where did these creases and wrinkles come from? Where has the time gone to pass me into this aged facade of what I once believed? How can that much time have passed?

I remember those days sitting at Cafe Reggio, unnecessarily long hair flipping flippantly with the southern gusts of the Village as I read Kant and drank cappuccini. I remember the scents of halal food trucks wafting through the late afternoons and scribbling n those notebooks I always carried.

I can't remember the last time I carried one of my Moleskines.

My eyes look tired. Bags and lines beneath each that I can't recall. I have to squint to see details now.

Beauty was never a concept I considered. But truth, love, justice, freedom, creativity... 

the tenants of all I ever had faith in.

When did I lose track of them? 

How long has it been since I believed in what I believe?

The hours spent in diatribe with collaborative camaraderie seem like such a distant memory. Days spent in discourse, nights spent in debauchery and all the while the story and narrative was always there. The north star to my starless seascape. I always believed in that guiding force.

When was the last time I sat down at my typewriter? A year, two? Do my fingers even remember how to do this?

I try to find my voice but it is drowned out by the maelstrom of the events of life. I look to those guiding stars and yet I can see nothing but a nebulous haze. Is this the true sinking of the ship I have held onto for so long?

My reflection stares back at me, a sense of sadness and complacency in his eyes. He looks to me as if to say this truth is not absolute. Broken doesn't fit well.

I stare back in defiance. I refuse to settle. Life is a beautiful story that never ends. The only time the chapter comes to a close is when we give up on the narrative.

It is never too late.

It is always the right time.

It is now.

It is.

Periphery

 "You've gotten older," she says with a wry grin, those emerald eyes averting momentarily as she always did when she was being coy.

"Time keeps passing no matter how much we deny it, my dear." I cock my head like I always do when I'm trying to find the right words. And I can never find the right words.

"Always relying on philosophic roundabouts."

"Well, some things never truly change." We exchange a smile, a moment that flashes back to decades before when we were young and there was just that moment. She dips her head, averts her eyes again and takes a sip of her drink. She looks around, searching for landmarks that are familiar to our time together but that time has long since passed...

...

"You two are just adorable! I need a photo of this moment!"

That random friend, just met and strangely now part of our circle heckles me for squinting and grinning instead of a smile. She chastises me and you tell her that my idiot crocodile smirk is a sign of me being happy. Not many recognize that one. We lean together, the backdrop of our eccentric neighborhood and home right behind us. The flash glares off the mojito glasses in front of us but I don't say a word. We enjoy the tapas from our local spot and the night just drifts into those memories so perfect and serene you struggle to remember the details...

... I still regret not having that photo, despite how things turned out...

... 

"Hey old friend, it's been a while." I never expect your calls anymore. So many miles and eons have passed between us that I don't know if we still matter anymore.

"Yeah, I guess it has been. Are you..."

"How are..."

"How's your family?"

"How's you're... ah yeah they're fine."

"Yeah, me too." I don't know what else to say, sitting alone a lifetime away from you.

...

...

"Can I help you pack anything," I ask, clearly lacking enthusiasm. I'm on that tiny little green couch that had been such a source of comfort for years. Pizzeria and red wine-sangria and the gandalf pipe and old shows that just made every moment last as long as it was needed.

"No, I'm fine."

...

I still remember sitting at Cafe Reggio, reading Baudelaire and drinking my espresso when you come up the street from class, fired up about linguistics and looking like the beatific artistic saint with your handbag and your torn-up Bowie shirt. You sit down and just unleash your mind while subtly ordering a drink. I light a Dunhill and smirk as you bombard with passion. The growing autumn twilight doesn't drive us away at.

...

"I don't know what to say." We're at the security checkpoint at the airport, your bags already checked. Theres almost no one in the international terminal at this hour. You always have a knack for the untimed.

"Thanks for coming with me." You look hard at me but I can't keep the eye contact. I know something meaningful and important is about to end. You place over your shoulder at the digital terminal clock and then slowly turn back to me. You keep your eyes down to match my downtrodden visage. "I'm gonna miss you." You wait for me to react.

"Yeah, you too," I say, reticently raising my chin to match your gaze. You flash a pirate smile, the one I know all too well and you softly nod your head. You check on your bag and then turn back to me. There are a million words whispered in a moment without a sound being made. You smile again and you throw your arms around my neck. I match the act and that moment freezes.

A slight tear slides down your cheek and you smile again, steeling yourself. You grab your bag and turn and head off towards the terminal. I stand and wait and watch for longer than I can remember, my mind silent and my senses numbed. You slowly disappear from sight...

...

...

"Do you remember that random pizza place we used to get from for Futurama nights?"

I choke on my drink, laughing on my doorstep as your voice pierces my ears.

"How could I forget."

"They never remembered the toppings." Your laugh in my ears sparks synapses of a lifetime ago but I know they are closed doors. It's just nice hearing my friend laugh again.

"Talk to you soon," I ask after a while. My drink is empty and the haze over city stars is starting to clear meaning dawn is coming.

"Always." 

And the line goes dead, and I am left with those sounds of a city neighborhood. The barreling glow of the corner street lamp feels like a lighthouse of oppression in a moment and a lifetime of an instant.

I wake up that first moment you are gone.

The lamppost is a lighthouse in the anguish.

Constellations

 I think about that morning a lot.

The slowly ascending crescendo of the basic sounds of life.

And yet those moments were everything.

The gulls and gills of Charlestown sung loud while we just lounged and

lived.

Breathed.

Were.

You scream at me as you put your last few items in your bag.

"You're just too much," you say, your body trembling but your eyes resolute.

"I love you," you say after the long, discomforting pause. "But I can't stand you anymore."

I watch as you pass through the gate to my building. I know this is it:  you'll move on to whatever the fates decide but I know that our paths will not cross again. I take a seat on the sidewalk, hoping to see starts in LA  but I'm left with a myriad void,

I look at the curtains, downed to block out the light, thinking of when we put them up. So much had happened before we thought it might be prudent to shut them out. Remember the nudist couple across the the street?

I'm waiting in my car, parked in front of a generational home. But I can't imagine being anywhere else at this moment. You come out through the driveway and the security lights turn on. I see a wry grin creep lethargically across you visage. 

'I see you,' is all I hear. The world softens for that moment.

"You snore a lot," you say with a noticeable sense of amusement as I crack the lids to the day.

I'm pretty sure I grumbled, and you just smiled and came closer.

I watch you pack and I am broken.

"Hey, I live down the hall. Just wanted to say hi."

I stare straight up into the sky. I seek no constellation. 

Hallucingnes

I'm just sitting outside, resting on the the stoop looking up at the shrouded stars of the city life.

    There is a strange silence in a neighbored usually rampant with noise and chaos and life.

You sit there next to me, stoic and silent and sublime. 

    The crucible of those hours hang heavy on your shoulders,

            the rally flag of familial fortuity have been staked hours ago,

                    and the army amasses mobilized for you.

We sit and count stars and discourse the strange change of the tides of life.

You're there. Those tranquil moments where I can read everything in your thoughts by the wry grin on your face...

...

...

... I watched as you took down art that hung on our walls for years. Symbols of stability broken and shattered in the mere passing of moments. The songs we used to play for joy now sound out in resonance of misery and loss. I search for the words to keep you knowing I contemplate in pure futility. You've been gone longer than I can allow myself to admit...

...

...

We're sitting on the back porch, the waning crescent moon perched like a petulant perpetrator of perpetual pain. You say you cannot cry and I cannot say why. I cannot be anything more than there.

...

...

.... And I remember when I was just too much to take. I kept failing and you kept taking those chances...

...

...

    I'm sitting outside my house. The sun bears down on the Charlestown streets and I watch as the neighborhood moves like a calculated game of Risk. I close my eyes, close my book and rest it on my chest. I bask in the blind warmth of a city street and then you call me. You need me. And I am there.

...

...

That morning waking up together. You're arm wrapped around my chest, the morning light intruding in a moment where I felt peace. Where we were able to wake up and face each other and just smile. That pirate grin you wore as you stroked my ear with the blade of your thumb...

...

...

 You ask me to be there, And you are never there. I sit, entranced, ever waiting.

...

...

...

... I watched as I fucked up. I was never right for the moment. I always tried to be there and that was my problem. I was always there and never here...

...

...

...

 I wake from this fever dream, the tears coming without cause, and I ask myself a litany of questions.

Was this real?

    Did I ever mean more than just a doorstop?

        Whatever love it may be...

                It's not this.

...

...

...

 I woke up in a fever, hoping last night was not real. 

...

...

...

I sit and stare out my window looking at the same stars. But you are but a shroud to me, some ethereal mist that has no weight because some never cares. I have to let go of hope...

...

...

..

.

My thoughts of you meaning were but that dream. 

    I hallucinate too much without drugs.

        Go find yourself hope.

These Familiarly Strange Cobwebs

And yet once again, here were are...

    the stranger in my own narrative.

Where did this reality come from? How could so much change in a single year after so much changed in a moment?

There was a time and an instant when desperation and isolation and a yearning to not be alone brought an amalgamation of scatterd souls together for a brief period where we could share our joys and sorrows together.

    The trigger was one of us. One lost and unanchored and without a concept of the next step forward.

            And so like those most insanely beautiful maniacs do, we banded together. We rallied behind a flag of purpose to preserve that which had become beloved and sacred to us. We embodied 'E Plurbus Unum:' Out of many, one. We created a strange summer camp for the genders: the boys camp, rough, savages, riddled with too many people in a small cabin but inundated with fraternity and video games as the common demonstrator; the women formed a sisterhood... one that seemed unshakable as we all struggled together. Tabula Rasa coming, terra incognito for all of us. It was going to be the best year of our lives.

...

...

...I sit here now, a year later, in my own place again, returned to the comforting isolation. I can breathe, I can exist without feeling the obligations of relying upon others and being reliant to others. And yet there is that deafening silence where my adoptive sisters would emerge from their room for a food run or a just to make sure I was okay. The times with their chinchilla were beyond measure.

....

...

Those early days were something out of a daydream or a sitcom. We were a cohesive unit, a diasporic family merged through the bonds of fidelity, the needs of necessity, and the addiction of broken fragments coming together to form something imperfectly perfect.

     The laughs, the tears, the late night conversations overlooking the slumbering streets of Allston. The random moments where somehow we all ended up together. Those were things you could not plan. They were just natural chemistry.

...

...

I spent most of tonight after working staring out my new living room window. The old cotton mill smoke stack stands like a resilient sentinel, defiant to its current insignificance yet beautiful in its imperfection. I watch a couple watch their pup as she sniffs around the courtyard.

...

...

Somehow it never worked the way we thought it would.

Time is a bastard,

and life is an asshole.

    Combined, it was an inevitability that it wouldn't be perfect. But you'd think after a year and a half of running through the crucible together that there would be lasting meaning.

And yet here we stand.

...

...

 I walk the confines of my house, the songs that remind me of so many parts of the past permeating through my head and I cannot comprehend what I can even feel anymore.

    

    After so long in an insulated chamber I was alive again. Those atrophied parts of my already broken heart were resuscitated into life once more. I was saved from myself by this party of absurdity.

        I even let myself get vulnerable.

                It ended as it always has, but this was a chance that reminded me of the reason you take them.

...

...

I'm sitting at my keyboard for the first time in a very long time. To be honest, I don't know if I know how to to this writing bit anymore because it's been so long. And yet like the sailor to the sea, I am am drawn back whether I think its the right thing to do or not. My fingers can't remember how to work perfectly in time with my mind. I am trying to find this part of me again, after a very long hiatus.

...

...

There are so many talks we had on the porch, discussing life and the meaning of it all. And now those conversations are just left mute: insignificant musings that were only used to indulge in selfishness. 

...

...

For the first time in a a long time I'm just listening to Bob Dylan. Live At Royal Albert Hall. The haunting notes of a wailing harmonica bring me both a comfort and an inherent terror: I've felt this loss before.

    When she told me she was leaving and I sat beside the Hudson.

        When I was told I was too much to handle.

            When I thought I was ready.

...

...

...

    I still remain at a loss to the changes of time when it results in the changes of a heart.

...

---

...

    We do our best to both show we are fine, and yet also cry for help.

    Listen to your loved. See the kaleidoscope visions.

       Make it all clear.