sometimes late at night when i’m driving along the highway, i pretend that the gulf of darkness extending to the west is the ocean and that i am only seconds from the sea.

the familiarity of that notion extends far beyond the comfort that only a coastline can provide; it encourages in me a sense of serenity, of peace, of strength.

lately, though, i’ve forgotten about her. and in doing so, i have only forgotten myself.

but i am beginning to find the shore once more. and to my surprise, i’m falling in love with the sandy seas of the desert.

amos lee - keep it loose, keep it tight

colin james hay - waiting for my real life to begin

joe purdy - wash away

our current existence can be an overwhelming experience of sensations and emotions. everything is biased, intertwined. these heartstrings are veins that have infinite beginnings but ultimately end at the soul. by untangling them and following their path, we can find unexpected sources of joy, depression, completion, and torment. unfortunately, they usually stay just under the skin. we rarely stop to dissect and find the cause of these emotions. things are never fully understood, but we find comfort in knowing the present will become the past. with its permanence and detachment, the past provides a certain clarity the present can never reveal. the past has closures, the present has complications. then again, if we live for the certainty, we’ll never fully experience how it feels to be alive.

oren lavie - “her morning elegance”

hospital ships - “baby for J”

beirut - “my night with the prostitute from marseille”

is it too late to start tracing the lines?

where one path diverges, another begins.

it would be easy to say that the pathway becomes something different, but it doesn’t. it just changes. it adapts. it morphs into a trail that would have originally been impossible if not for that first yielding divergence.

so, i walk this path. but i never forget how it started, for the first steps of that beginning are the footfalls that carry me along the way.

grand archives - “torn blue foam couch”

neutral milk hotel - “in the aeroplane over the sea”

hindsight is not 20/20. how many times have we looked back and said, “where did things go wrong for us?” we both know how much we fought and screamed and said the most hateful, hurtful things just to see who could make the other one cry first. we weren’t happy then, but we aren’t happy now, so we tell ourselves that it is better to be miserable together than miserable and alone.

ben folds - cologne

frightened rabbit - my backwards walk

i like to say that i never make the same mistakes twice, but the reality is that in the land of repeatedly making bad decisions, i would be king.

Sometimes I feel like such a fool, such a jerk, when I talk about my friendships.

He knows better than I do what it means to miss someone. He knows so much more.

I can’t decide if it’s wrong or right, but I feel his sadness and his loss so intensely, I am embarrassed.

He has such strength, such courage, to love someone when it means risking everything.

I have so much to learn from him and that is why I love him.

Maria Taylor - A Good Start

Rilo Kiley - Give A Little Love

knuckle down, chin up, chest out, shoulders back - don’t let anyone see how scared and sad and lonely you really are. make that smile look convincing, make your laugh sound sincere. when you are the emperor, you get to wear such delightful clothes.

annuals - around your neck

ida maria - oh my god

bodies of water - i guess i’ll forget the sound, i guess, i guess

It’s been awhile…apologies for my silence. I never have been very good at keeping track of time.

Now that I’ve had a chance to breathe, think, and tie up many of the loose-ends that have been tugging at my thoughts for months, I’m realizing that I’m missing something huge. It feels bigger than ever now that there’s a void.

Jenny Lewis - Acid Tongue

I guess Jenny’s right, loneliness is a habit. I’m trying to break it, but some days it breaks me.

photo credit

If I take my time, I may retain control. hoping the mold I weave can make things clear, I realize I never had full say in my destiny. windmill flailing, I tumble. I blew my chance. recovering, I analyze how I can make things right the next time. thinking again. if only my thoughts translated into words into actions. hopefully one day I’ll follow through. until then, I’ll keep on falling into those who don’t have the strength to cushion the blow. rolling, blindly spinning. one day I’ll learn. maybe then I won’t have to fall alone. he’ll understand why I fall. he’ll fall with me.

bon iver - “blood bank”

great lake swimmers - “changing colours”

peter and the wolf - “lightness”

the romantic heart cannot swim in a calm sea, so it flails and spins madly and without reservation, drowning while keeping itself afloat just enough. i am now afraid of the water - no, not afraid of it, but tired of it. i detest the water and the sea from having exhausted myself in it so many times already. but lately… i have the urge to go swimming.

teitur - catherine the waitress

cocoon - on my way

land of talk - got a call

i can already see myself sinking, swallowing the whole ocean, drowning once again. but the water isn’t unfamiliar to my lungs, and i can’t even breathe without it. curse these gills and this stupid heart.