The Unwinding Cable Car

It's cold in here. The Fall weather hit yesterday-ish, and I felt an excited chill. Then, I thought of snow and how much I despise the white. If it didn't come along with low temperatures and brisk winds, I would love to romp in it all. However, I find myself wishing for California. Or somewhere else that has minus snow.

It got cold yesterday, which is when I felt it inside. I should've felt it on Sunday. As if my emotions affect the weather. As if we're synchronized. We're not. But it sure feels that way. So I wrote in my journal at about 3 a.m. to let it loose, but I just couldn't formulate the proper structure to the heaviness. This moment wasn't about actual snow. Perhaps you've never found yourself so stripped of syllables and sounds regarding the cold. I hate that moment. So here are some of my entries where I felt incredibly full of exactly what I wanted to say. Not saying they're perfection; however, I felt perfection in penning them at those moments:

"And I stopped caring on a winter night in 2003. And then I taught people they could care again; they could feel again. But I never found it. It must be for other people. So I did things that were to make me whole again, but my pieces are still strewn and it just didn't place me back together. I wasn't willing to find all of the loose ends, so I will always stand alone until I collect. And it's easier that way."

"They say to keep a journal. I keep it for the wrong reasons. To enrich my posterity, it will not. It seems it's spiritually void, and that defeats the very purpose of the record. It's only a mess of metaphors and poems, ambiguities. A gold mine for those searching for something less than God. It's my form of sanity, though. Surprisingly, God is found here for me. Even if you can't find Him."

"Forced to repeat my hell

As people pretend they need to hear it;

They need to hear it.

And they need to hear it from my tears,

From my eyes, and from my lips.

To help us all, these curious people,

All these good people,

They need to know my dark hours.

It's not enough to see the dark circles I wear.

After the divulsion,

I retreat with only curiosity having been fed.

Is curiosity so selfish?"

Angst and ambiguity is my writing most of the time. The ambiguity is probably a defense mechanism so that I don't let people know completely what I could possibly be thinking/feeling. Maybe that's why Tori Amos' songs done connect in the outright. Ah, but musically, she spells that out. She's good live, by the way. Quite phenomenal, truthfully. It's still cold in here. And courtesy of Lydia...

"Tell me how I finally figured it out,

That now you're caught in the things you said

You'd never do.

And now, its starting to show-

Like her skin fell out out of her clothes.

She's got a list of moves to make.

"Stay for me.

Because it was the first.

It was the...

Stay on me.

"Take your time lighting the room.

When all is said and done

I bet you're covering.

Is it a wonder you're lonely,

Taking chances to feel again.

I bet

You never knew,

I bet you never.

"Stay for me.

Because it was the first.

It was the...

Stay on me.

"Suddenly, a cloud must have cut a hole in my head

When I was tangled all in your words.

How quick to forget,

We are.

With eyes unimpressed

You're sealing the conversations.

And are you wondering how things could be?

Just staring at the surface

When all the walls have tendencies.

But it's not your fault when no one taught you how.

"And now the one you once loved is leaving...

"You're so sure that I'd be just fine here.

But you were surely just taking your own time, Dear."