the fact that she could go to work in a T-shirt and shorts, she answered, along with the privilege of participating in other people’s dreams, and most of all the thrill she got, the feeling of wondrous correctness, when a handful of words she had been organizing and reorganizing suddenly fastened themselves together, forming a chain that seemed to tug at the page from some distant, less provisional place, as if through an accidental pattern of sounds, rhythms, and insinuations she had linked herself to the beginning of the world, a time when words were inseparable from what they named and you could not mention a thing without establishing it in front of your eyes. it was the same feeling, she was convinced, that painters experienced through color, dancers through movement, photographers through light. the same feeling that mathematicians experienced through equations and actors experienced through emotion.

-the illumination, by kevin brockmeier

"It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.” 

-chuck palahniuk

What it's like for a deaf person to hear music for the first time: article here.

Chapman writes, "I did the only sensible thing and went on a binge of music." From that binge, he composed his top-five list:

1. Mozart's Lacrimsoa... I know it's a depressing song but to me it represents the first time I could appreciate and experience music.
2. The soundtrack to Eleven Eleven... I can see how this comes off as narcissistic, it being my own film and all but it's such a personal work that when I listened to it for the first time I broke down. I felt like I was truly seeing the film for the first time ever. I'm grateful that Cazz was able to capture the tone perfectly. We discussed the film and specific scenes with essay-sized reasoning/deliberations on what should be conveyed. The critical response to the film surprised me and I still didn't quite get it until seeing the visual images coupled with the soundtrack.
3. Sigur Ros's Staralfur... The first song I had to listen to again, over and over.
4. IL Postino-Luis Bacalov
5. Minnesota's A Bad Place

"Silence is still my favorite sound," he writes.

"Everyone knows you're going to live
so you might as well start trying."

- Regina Spektor, Firewood

something struck me in conversation the other day.

we are all waiting for miracles. we are all waiting to be saved in our own ways. we are all waiting for love to appear. we are all waiting for our dreams to come true.

what if we've been waiting all this time for something that looks a certain way to us, but when it appears, it will be almost unrecognizable with a hint of mischief dancing across its eyes? what if it just looks different from what we have imagined-- what if our miracles have arrived, but we are too preoccupied with our assumptions to notice?

this morning was cold after the rain that rode in through the night. last night we stayed past midnight outside, drinking the air as it grew colder on our lips. the fog sat heavily on its haunches, watching the green mountains soak deeper colors into its bones. i feel autumn coming, and it fills me with hope that  this year's winter will bring a different kind of warmth, unlike previous years before it.

an old friend called me last night.

and another old friend fell in love.

--



By the Same Author
James Longenbach (2012)

Today, no matter if it rains,
It's time to follow the path into the forest.


The same people will be walking the same dogs,
Or if not the same dogs, dogs that behave in similar fashions,
Some barking, some standing aloof.
The owners carry plastic bags.


But this is the forest, they complain, we must do as we like.
We must let the dogs run free,
We must follow their example,
The way we did when we were young.


Back then we slept, watched TV—
We were the dogs.
By the time the screen door slammed, we were gone.


Nobody really talks like that in the forest.
They're proud of their dogs,
Proud especially of the ones who never bark.
They're upset about the Norway maple, it's everywhere,
Crowding out the hickories and oaks.


Did you know it takes a million seeds to make one tree?
Your chances of surviving in the forest,
Of replicating yourself, are slim.


Today, the smaller dogs are wearing raincoats,
The bigger ones are stiffing it out.
They're tense, preoccupied,
Running in circles,
Getting tangled in the leash—


It's hard remaining human in the forest.
To move the limbs of the body,
To speak intelligible words,
These things promise change.

I cannot be known
Better than you know me

Your eyes in which we sleep
We together
Have made for my man's gleam
A better fate than for the common nights

Your eyes in which I travel
Have given to signs along the roads
A meaning alien to the earth

In your eyes who reveal to us
Our endless solitude

Are no longer what they thought themselves to be

You cannot be known
Better than I know you.

- Paul Eluard

I don't wanna to spend my whole life asking, "What if I had given everything?"
-Matt West, "The Motions"

sometimes when i hear the violin, i want to cry. not because the sound of the violin makes me sad, but because it makes me sad that i once knew how to play and no longer do. sometimes i want to cry because it's so fucking beautiful. sometimes i just think how lucky i am to have ever played it at all. sometimes i think how lucky i am to be able to hear it at all.

earlier this year, for a moment in time, everything stood still. and this man saved (changed) my life. he was more romantic than he'd admit, more intelligent than people give him credit for, and more tender than he'd like to seem.

we wrote letters back and forth for a little while, but it tapered off as we both became busier and more distant.  i still read this particular excerpt often:

"Your mom's lectures sound pretty extensive and hardcore. I think that's good though. She really cares and wants the best.

"I understand your issues with your father. My family actually has some tough communication issues, with my mom and dad. I'm trying hard with my mom though. Sitting on her couch as a write this.
I think my communication troubles stem from my relationship with my mom and dad actually. I'm trying to work on being a better communicator and being honest and open as well. It's really tough though and I feel like I'm always opening myself up for ppl to judge me. I don't deal so well with that. For men, communication is really tough. Men are taught to be doers and not really communicators. It's good that you are trying to keep strains in your relationship with your father from effecting your other relationships. That's not easy to do, but it's important. Everyone deserves a fair shot to be understood and loved without comparison to someone else. We are each our own individuals and though many types of people may share traits, comparison is really not fair.

"Also your statement about men letting you down and your father letting you down really stood out to me. I can really relate and understand where you are coming from. The sad truth is that men are going to let you down. They just are. It's a certainty. Your dad is going to let you down . . .  again. Unfortunately, I'm going to let you down. Your closest friends will let you down. The funny paradox is that the way humans are wired makes us desperate for relationship and so dependent on one another. But interestingly, other people can never fully be all that we may need them to be. Thus they are bound to disappoint us. It's a really hard reality to swallow and something that I understand on an intellectual level (and I'm sure you do too) but hard to realize emotionally. Humans are gloriously tragic beings. Our capabilities, passion and beauty are truly amazing. We are truly something to behold. But our brokenness and shortcomings are so immediately present. It's truly an amazing paradox. I write all that to say that you have to take the glory with the tragedy. Even when the tragic seems so overbearing, fight for perspective to see the good. If you think the fight is worth it. So take the glory with the tragedy with your dad, with men, with everyone. It doesn't mean that you have to lower your standards for support, just change your perspective so that you can really SEE everything. But then again, you and I both know that this is all very easy to preach and very hard to practice. But just make the decision for yourself to see if it's worth practicing.

"And that's all I have to say about that. . . Forrest Gump style."

- June 17th, which was 4 days before my birthday, which was 4 days before his flowers arrived at my front door. And my father's orchids appeared on my desk in my room. Because life is like a box of chocolates.