tonight you've been thinking about what your dad said to you - two, three - years ago about not loving the wounded place. about how you can't ever be whole and happy if you use those soulholes to comfort yourself in some way.
the hole as a crutch, the hole as a means of separation, difference, distinction. the hole as some antagonistic gathering place of artistic or passionate integrity. you can exist with a hole easily enough, people do it every day. you can't exist, truly, if you let the hole fill with gravity and suck the rest of you in some slow spiral draining.
if, as you say, who you are is based on the riding of your emotional waves, then the hole with gravity is your most dangerous foe. the emotions center on it, swirl and are swallowed. around and around and around until you're sucked in and still spiraling. is it any wonder you feel that your life has been lived in so many circles?
your wound can close around the bullet. skin returns to flat skin, heal but never be fully healed. you can carry the bullet inside secretly like some badge of honor or memory that you are solely cognizant of, but if you want to recover, you have to get the bullet out. there has to be some extrication or the memory will always be there, will always fester, no matter how things look on the outside.
this is obvious, this is what doesn't really need to be said. this isn't what you do.
what you do, actually instead of ideally, is rip the bullet out, identify it as a bullet and then frame the bullet and focus on the bullet and keep pulling the scab off where it was, keep slicing the stitches back open, to see if you're healed yet. and you can insist that you don't love the wounded place, but love was just a semantic. it's the obsession with the wounded place that will suck you in. it's the attention and the headspace you give it. sometimes - lots of times - emotionally, you have to slap a band-aid on it and keep on playing. or it will never heal, and you will never get anything done.
you'd be better off collecting scars and stories, than sitting on the bathroom counter examining the blood and the pain and the progress that will never come.
it's not an epiphany, and it's not supposed to be a lesson or a lecture. it's just the space you are in your head tonight, trying to glean tiny bits worth biting off the last scraps of leftover advice.
you always talk about more red, wanting the more red. the blood isn't more red. especially if it's your own.
you can't find new colors in yourself if you haven't spent enough time outside of yourself to gather any other colors in the first place.
you can trip over your favorite temptations, we all have them. those vices that we say no to all day, and then let in at night when it's dark and they're familiar and the familiarity and the habit are a comfort in their own way, regardless of the thing.
how hard is it to make a habit, a familiarity, out of a good thing? harmony is opposing tension. there is as much emotional truth, as much - if not more - artistic integrity, in making it all a good thing, or shone in a good light.
your life is hard, but it is not as hard as some. take heart, and whole, and pull in the edges. there is substance is the nothole. substance and discovery and the tiny-veined weavings of truth.
the lines are not always cracks. somewhere, and sometime, you will turn on again, in darkness, and the beauty will have been right there in front of you all along.
you can build as many good things with tiny stones, as bad ones. make the mountains of your molehills majestic, challenging; climb and overcome.
it's not the mountain that changes, it's you.
you have to trust yourself enough to say, i can't see it, but it's there. i expect to see it, therefore it is.
the cat in schrodinger's box is dead and not dead. stop beating the dead cat and pick the other side for once. it's just as real, just as valid, especially when the box is still closed.
even if you don't normally listen to the songs, listen to this one.
waiting for the beat to kick in - dan le sac vs. scroobius pip
silently i step up with a subversive subtext
trying to feed the need for more than just remedial subjects
place my faith in the belief that the general public
will open up their minds to more than just an industry puppet
i ain't a preacher preaching doom and gloom
well, not just yet,
but if there's something i feel strongly about then i'll discuss it
and if i only make one album before i kick the bucket
i'll hold that album to my heart in my grave and say fuck it
waiting for the beat to kick in, but it never does
waiting for my feet to grow wings that lift me above
all of these tiresome things that we know and love
waiting for the beat to kick in, but it never does
a lot of my poems i write seem start with me waking up
or being in a dream, or dream-like state
now this implies a certain level of abstraction in my work,
you might say i'm keeping it surreal, but i'd rather you didn't
fact is, i sleep a lot, it's as simple as that
i like sleeping, man, it's a nice place to be
i was walking along through unfamiliar streets
and it felt strange because there didn't seem to be anyone else around
i don't know where i was but it had the feel of new york,
but not new york in real life, the new york you see in old films
i can't really explain why, it just had that vibe
every step i took felt somehow more dramatic
so i kept walking, and down an alley behind a bar sitting on some metal steps i saw a man
from the look and the smell of him it was clear he enjoyed the drink
but he wasn't in such a state that i felt him to be any kind of irrational threat
so i approached him, with due care
ah, mister pip, he said out loud
we've been awaiting you, my name is elwood p. dowd
now just what he meant by we i didn't really get
but all the same i took a seat next to him on the step
he said you'll meet a few people before this day is through
who will administer advice and guidelines to you
now what each of us says i'll tell you now is true
but whether or not you take that advice is for you to choose
at that point he acted like someone had whispered in his ear
which, since no one else was there, was pretty damn weird
awkwardly i looked away and kind of played with my beard
he cleared his throat for a second and then said listen here
in this life you can be oh-so-smart or oh-so-pleasant
for years i was smart, i recommend pleasant
being smart can make you rich and bring respect and reverence
but the rewards of being pleasant are far more incandescent
with this information i was encouraged to walk on
i continued along through these empty streets
thinking over what elwood had said,
but at the same time, thinking over how fucking strange the day had been so far
i was in my own little world when a hand was placed on my chest
and a man said look out, there's some broken glass on the floor there
i looked up
he said hi, pleased to meet you, my name is lloyd dobbler
i'll get straight to the point, won't take too much time from ya,
i'm probably the youngest person you'll get advice from today
and you may think a guy my age wouldn't have anything to say
but it's said that observation not old age brings wisdom
and i observe every single life lesson i'm given
i won't attempt to tell you how to love or be loved
because you get a different genie each time that lantern is rubbed
but i will offer you advice from dealing with life
it's ups and it's downs, it's trials and it's strife
and i'm sure you've had times you've felt down and angry
and you wanted to lash out and punch a wall and be manly
but the question i pose now will offer you a plan b
and maybe some peace and quiet for your friends and family
how hard is it to decide to be in a good mood,
and then just be in a good mood?
that's all i have to say, because it's a straight-up fact
you control your emotions, it's as simple as that
he walked off then,
leaving me to contemplate this brief encounter
i barely had time to realize i was being taught something
before he was
gone
and i was back on my way
on i walked and almost immediately i spotted the next guide
and he couldn't be clearer
this guy was standing on the street corner and pacing back and forth
skinny lookin' guy, leather jacket, tight jeans - retro look
i'd rarely seen someone look quite so uncomfortable in their own skin,
twitchin', smoothing his hair back, kicking the floor and looking up and a down the street
he clearly didn't enjoy waiting around so i approached him quickly
to put him out of his misery
and to let him start his
spiel
hi my name is billy brown,
i ain't gonna give you some quote
instead i'm gonna use some stuff that YOU wrote:
always had the feeling i could never be the villain
'cause the villain in the films is always backlit
now i find it pleasing
to defend myself with reason
but the clock is always sitting on my back
tick tick tick
then, no explosion but persistence brings erosion
like a picture overly exposed and
like a fox that's been run over in the road and
basically what i'm trying to say to you is
you don't achieve anything by letting the past rule within you
getting all pent-up and angry about stuff just eats away inside you,
what's that other line of yours...
if you can't forgive and forget, how's this?
forget forgiving and just accept that that's it
see that's how it's gotta be
then you can fall in love, get on with life and be free
almost before he could even finish that sentence he was off down the street
hands in his pockets, hurrying away
now quite accepting of the total surreal time i was having
i rounded a corner and continued on to my next encounter
resigned to the fact this was some dream or hallucination,
i made my way through the now dark street,
to the one window that had a light on,
i walked through the unlocked door which incidentally had blinds down
and a silhouetted figure like a film noir scene,
but sadly no sign saying private eye
as i entered a voice promptly said:
this journey's almost over, i'm the only one left
allow me to introduce myself, my name is walter neff
the other guys have taught you things of great positive worth
but i'm afraid i'm here to bring you back down to earth
see you can live your life in control and be nice
but even that will not promise you a happy life
you may think yourself in general to be a nice guy
but i'm telling you now - that right there is a lie
even the nicest guys have some nasty within 'em
you don't have to be backlit to be the villain
whether it be greed, lust or just plain vindictiveness
there's a level of malevolence inside of all of us
you can paint yourself an image and live in your own little dream
but this ain't a dream, it's one big silver screen
so when you think you've got your happy ending don't ever forget it,
it ain't over till you hear the sound of your end credits
you'll be waiting for the beat to kick in, but it never does
waiting for your feet to grow wings that lift you above
all of these tiresome things that you know and love
waiting for the beat to kick in, but it never does
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