Mairin is out to dinner with friends and the girls are almost asleep. The house is littered with pesky hush, as I stumble through the debris. I swore tonight, on this quiet Friday night, that I would take a break from-- the constant need to be heard, the need to connect, the need to express, the need to share, the need to, the need to, the need...
Made a promise to escape into the madness of murder in Kansas, as I marveled at the grace and elegance of prose woven by Capote, but....just a quick Twitter check.
Oh that demanding- just one quick that every addict knows. I strapped back into the machine and these spilled out:
I started typing this post when Adrienne sent me something about “Saudade” Talking about that, longing for something that “does not and cannot exist."
And now here I am. As usually on a Friday night. Lost in yearning. I can hear you, "You need to get out more. Stop thinking so much." People have been telling me that since I was eight years old, but trust me, if I was out celebrating, I would be thinking about how much I would rather be home alone with my music and my words--meandering in confusion. Headed no where in particular. I take comfort in these words. The journeys I undertake within these paragraphs lead me to...maybe just circles, but I enjoy the ride.
In the past, I filled the hole with wine, socializing, friendships--now I fill it with what? Tweets? Writing? You? Maybe the secret is not to try and fill the hole with anything. Maybe I need to accept that yearning is my (our) natural state. Maybe when I feel this unnameable craving, I should take a deep breath, close my eyes and understand that desire is natural. It is what makes us human. You feel it too right?
Voices in the storm they say...oooooooooh, ooooooooooh...water falls...
Truman is calling from Kansas...maybe a few strums of the guitar, maybe just sitting in the silence of my home and drifting away in gratitude.
Made a promise to escape into the madness of murder in Kansas, as I marveled at the grace and elegance of prose woven by Capote, but....just a quick Twitter check.
Oh that demanding- just one quick that every addict knows. I strapped back into the machine and these spilled out:
"That's enough," a voice whispered. "Leave it alone."
"Let's take it for a ride. See where she goes," said another.
Soon the headphones were on and M. Ward starts in with this...
Go ahead. Listen for yourself. Close your eyes. Breathe.And now I'm conquering an ocean
One wave at a time, it's true
Cause I cannot beat the devil
I'm taking on the deep deep blue
Armed with this key on my piano that I play for you
I started typing this post when Adrienne sent me something about “Saudade” Talking about that, longing for something that “does not and cannot exist."
And now here I am. As usually on a Friday night. Lost in yearning. I can hear you, "You need to get out more. Stop thinking so much." People have been telling me that since I was eight years old, but trust me, if I was out celebrating, I would be thinking about how much I would rather be home alone with my music and my words--meandering in confusion. Headed no where in particular. I take comfort in these words. The journeys I undertake within these paragraphs lead me to...maybe just circles, but I enjoy the ride.
In the past, I filled the hole with wine, socializing, friendships--now I fill it with what? Tweets? Writing? You? Maybe the secret is not to try and fill the hole with anything. Maybe I need to accept that yearning is my (our) natural state. Maybe when I feel this unnameable craving, I should take a deep breath, close my eyes and understand that desire is natural. It is what makes us human. You feel it too right?
Voices in the storm they say...oooooooooh, ooooooooooh...water falls...
Truman is calling from Kansas...maybe a few strums of the guitar, maybe just sitting in the silence of my home and drifting away in gratitude.
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