I remembered tonight, though.
So here I am, writing again.
I told someone I would write them a poem a while ago, but the poem wasn't ready to be written then. However, I wrote a few tweets last weekend that were the beginning of this poem.
As I'm writing this post, let me say something...
My rebound vibes must be PUMPING because I was offered a gym membership, some "more private" pix, and asked if I would still suck his dick even though we're broken up and he has a girlfriend.
Clearly THAT is the post I need to be writing.
Anyway, read the text and/or watch the video.
Leave a comment.
The emotions are too big for the tiny keys.
My heart is filled to bursting with excitement and joy and love.
It's a dope feeling.
Emotions on eleven
head swimming the back stroke.
Funny timing life has.
The voice on the phone
repeated my sentiments
Made me think so much more of you, love.
Made me think not less of him.
Maybe more frequently.
Yet…all I want is you.
I almost wish I didn't
and I feel crazy sometimes.
but I know I'm not alone in my insanity.
There are others there with me.
And we all roam the halls
from daylight into dusk
Singing to ourselves about distant love.
And yes, I break into poetry. Sometimes I break into song. But at this moment the only thing that made my life communicatable was a poem. Explaining everything that just happened was tooooo much.
Crazy how life overlaps.
I wonder if it isn't repeating itself on purpose.
It has a lot to say
but it can't teach new lessons
until old ones are truly learned.
And here I am, bumping my head and determined
to beat life
to beat experience
to do things my own way and win.
I was always taught
that what I want to do cannot be done
but I don't intend to ever stop trying.
I'd ask you to forgive me if what I'm saying doesn't make sense, but if I may paraphrase Ru, "I'm searching in my purse for a fuck to give."
I don't know if I have much to say.
I am writing because I love my words. I'm tired of letting time eat them. Even if I haven't written a grand piece of work, I have written something and once again kicked sloth in the ass.
The real truth is that my life is bursting with events right now. My heart is brimming with emotions of every sort. I'm sad, elated, anxious, stressed, apathetic, hopeful… And they're on an hourly rotation. Everything has happened. Everything has changed.
Welcome, change. Hello. Have a drink and settle in. I've been waiting for you.
It took some time for me to be ready. When you got here I was still in my robe.
But I'm ready now, and I was worth the wait.
I got sleepy and forgot. Clearly I wasn't serious.
For me, that reveals a bigger issue than this blog.
I spend every waking moment considering things I should be writing about and the wonderful ways I could assemble the words to paint the pictures of the scenery of my life and I think about all the time I've wasted not doing that.
I call myself a writer. Not "aspiring", but a writer.
At my core, my essence, that's who I am. I can't escape it. If I could, it would have left me on grounds of spousal neglect by now.
But if I do not write, blogs or stories or essays or poems, I am not a writer, I am a dreamer.
Dreamers who do not act will never get paid.