ypsilanti's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- dreams move slower here in wakefield, rhode island. dreams move slower than expected. nothing is happening at the correct rate, and i really can't get enough done. this is bad news when held up to all the time and space i've created to get everything done. maybe all the space and miles of vertical stained glass were more like a bridge than a wall. more like something to realign yourself with and run across, than to think you've got to somehow get over. regardless, things are happening. things so important, i'm sure i won't understand their weight for years, maybe decades. like driving back and forth to boston, and running into all the people i've lost, totally (literally) bumping into each other out of the clear blue and in the most expected and obvious ways that never really happen. and also paying for groceries and saying before we're rung up "I think we've got under $20 worth of food here.. i'm gonna say we've got about $18.39.", and then moments later the cashier says "your total is $18.39." and she's not even joking. there's something that happens when you can honestly listen to what the world is screaming at you. so much of life is designed to have us block out and distract ourselves. it feels like if i get nothing else accomplished with these daysweeksmonths, i'm trying to remember how to listen to what's being told to me. last night i dreamed that we were driving through the best times that lives are allowed. the kind of times where we can look back and almost be amazed we trusted ourselves and each other enough to live in such honest celebration and such naked explosion of our feelings. and i can't remember what we were doing, if anything.. or which songs were playing, if any, or any of that stuff which sometimes marks moments. all i could understand was a feeling that was obvious and shared between everyone in the car. we had won. we were something new and we had been told it was beautiful. without any proof, and against the better judgement of the people we had been up until that moment, we were going to have to simply believe in what we had been told. it was the only option. and i remember the sky catching fire with the morning, and you wandering, stumbly, more moved by the fire and the purity of what we were all feeling than you could ever be made to stumble by any drink or pill they could ever make. and i knew we were all exhausted to the point of not being able to keep our eyes open, but it seemed like if we didn't sleep, our lives would last forever in this state of joy and truth, and our lucky night would never see it's dawn. and not only was this running through my blood like it had been waiting there in some locked compartment of my heart for as long as i'd been alive... but there was something more.. it seemed like past this feeling that we all shared, past this urgent and beautiful sense of fleeting liberation.. we (just you and i) had some other world just slightly out of reach, and well beyond what was happening right then. a world of almost unspeakable secrets, hidden in the moments when our eyes would meet for a split second, passed un-noticed from hand and heart in your lingering farewell as we dropped you off.. understanding. simple realizations. listening to everything that was being broadcast directly into me by the act of just being there.. waking up, trying again to remember to listen. meet me by the water, underneath the big beehive. bring your record player and your white stripes 45s. and we can dance together as the river rushes by, to wash away the cities that somebody eles designed. you and i underneath the circuitry of the sky. 1:05 am - 12.15.00 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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