Point of reference -- don't panic.

Opening night. The greatest group I could have thought to get together - a great time laughing and munching and chilling and a slushie-thing the color of cotton candy and m&ms - and minstrels! *bursts into hysterical laughter*

Don't ask. ... Don't panic.

Running down the up escalator. Hurling oursevles up the down escalator. Confusing on-comers, but they found us oddly amusing. And back down the up. Out of breath, laughter. Sitting on laps, falling over, being tickle-attacked like mad in a three-person back seat with four people in it.

Laughing at bowls of petunias and sperm whales; at dolphin songs and improbability drives, and Marvin - who I totally feel. Sh. Don't tell. Don't ask. Don't panic [this refrain'll get old soon, you'd think :D]

A few more hours - and another country for the weekend. 4 am departure time. Sometime mid-morning arrival. Float around half awake until dropping of stuff and sleeping - then night life. Again.

Night life. Hmm. Something like sitting around on a Tuesday evening - thinking there's got to be something to do. Getting up and going into the city at 23.33. Cheers. So few people on the streets. It's a weeknight...

Bumpin' music. People who can...people who can't dance. People who think you want to -- with them. Lemonade, no ice - 2 GBS. Turn, twist, spin. Flash of blue, splash of white. Techno, hip hop. Slow beat, fast beat. Friends who don't dance, but we'll learn 'em soon enough. Club smell, and city street in the mid of night. A train at 5.00 and the way home. Walk back from the station, oversleep to miss breakfast, and off to work to not fall asleep.

One crazy week coming up to the end of 'all' things now. Papers due and people to talk to and things that have been more important than just sitting here doing nothing. Oh yeah, and sandwich bar and onion rings - those were high points too!

All in all, it's been awesome fun, gang. It's been real lively - and real good clean fun. I can't believe it's almost all over...*sniffle*

Exactly one week before 'Cathedral', just so you know. Now more than ever: Don't panic.

Oh yeah, and thanks for all the fish *wink*.

-RK

Cedars and Stone Steps

Snow falling on cedars,
sticking on stone steps.
Snowflakes down strong brown branches
--a still-life, frozen in mid air.

Snow failing on cedars,
melting on stone steps.
Sinking water under wet green grass
--winter wonder dead in a spoiled spring.

Soft snow started falling,
filling the world with a cold, white
would-be blanket of sleep.
But soft snow does not stay.
Dreams drown out as nightmares,
hope despairs in search of itself
--an ugly world filled with half-frozen fear.

Snow falling on cedars,
failing on stone steps.
Gathering to die beside wood pillars
--Nature's strength that will not endure

a cold dead world without release,
a crying anguish without peace,
a lasting winder without spring,
--and a should-be summer maquerading life as death.

Copyright (c) R.L.L. 2005
-------
This was on myspace for a while, until I decided that it ought to be brought over here for everyone else to read. I was proud of it when I wrote it. Who knows now...

-RK

Too far.

Reading the most innanely imbicilic entry I have ever had to close my desperate mind upon, I have come to a conclusion.

People can say too much; they can go too far. They can be too honest.

There is a point in all of our honesty, in all of the things we think to say, in all of the truths that we know about ourselves, where we hit a road block. Most of us stop there, steer off the road, never return. Most of us deny the truths that we cannot admit to, cannot face, cannot live up to existing as. I'm starting to see there's a reason for that. No one really wants to know that much - that many deep intimate facts about you. Or me. There is a place where we can meet on common ground - and there is a place too far beyond that.

I hope I haven't done this recently - telling too much, being too plain, too easily accessible, too honest. I'm sure I have. Giving 'way all of the 'facts' in one of hell's pink hand baskets, proffering the entire picture of my heart and soul to any stranger walkikng by. I know at times I am more guilty of this than any one else in the world.

I only hope - it hasn't been too lately.

I knew that it'd happen. I felt it coming, and so I tried to keep some private things private. I tried to say things in other ways or not say them at all. I put words in places where no one would ever be sure to find them. I hid treasures and broken mirrors and shattered jewels in the caves within me so they weren't uncovered. And yet, sometimes I fear I too can be far too honest.

I, like so many, can say too much - can lead on too far - can be too readable, too straightforward, too direct. I don't mean to be. But it happens to the best of us. We just have to work on that I suppose. Work on being less 'honest' and more real.

That's the only way to be sure you aren't going too far in the end. Really.

-RK

Begging Questions

Here's a list of questions that need to be asked:

a) How stupid am I?
b) How is it that I look 75% stupider than that on a fairly constant basis?
c) Why does that issue apparently give people the authority to be incessantly intolerable?
d) If I were to change that appearence, would it affect how intolerably I was treated?
e) If changing my appearence doesn't aid the issue, what can?
f) If changing does not solve the problem, is it really my problem to try and solve?
g) If it isn't my problem, why am I constantly forced to deal with it on this level?

OK, that's it. I just felt I needed to ask.

-RK

From under one blackness, into another

The final from-scratch essay is done. (sigh) That was a relief. Now:

-book review
-scritp
-performance
-film essay
-portfolio
-unseen exam
-seen exam

Wait, wait, WAIT! Why on earth am I feeling relieved???

Oh...right, I'm not. I'm just awaiting the next wave to crash into me, awaiting the next gush of wind to knock me over, awaiting the next storm to blow through me.

Right. How could I have forgotten.

Oh, and I'm very unhappy about my current physiological state.
It's just depraved.

-RK

A moment's time...

I'm sitting here and I have far too much work to do, far too many things to try and get sorted, and far too many reasons for not doing a single one of said things. Instead, I'm sitting here putting on eyeliner and mouse in my hair and tip-tapping away at the computer keys in order to feel like I am headed somewhere.

Then, realization strikes: The day is nearly half over and what the crap have I done?

Nothing. I repeat - a good whole lot of nothing. This said simply to take the opportunity to say:

I am so screwed.

(sigh) That's it. I've just completely screwed myself over and I have no hope of reconciling the issue in any way, shape, or form. Therefore, I am going to just get angry, eat tiramisu, and brood while trying to get through a novel I should have had finished two weeks ago.

Wonderful. =0|

-RK

Tend your ways, take your paths, and fare thee fair

In some ways, life has been made easier on me. In other ways, it's made itself so much more confusing and conveluded than it was before. I won't go into details - but I will say this:

Volie, you confused me.

It's not that I though - or rather wanted to think - that whatever we did meant more than well...what we did. It wasn't so much that, or really that at all. And it wasn't that we just had a great time and moved on, or that it was or wasn't (for all rights of the term) a "season fling". It wasn't that I even would have wanted more than that.

It's just...it confused me.

I suppose it could have been the supposed "friendship" that got thrust in on us out of nowhere. Or maybe it was the idea that there was some extenuating circumstances that could bring the chance again. Or maybe it was just as simple as wanting to, as Lewis aptly states: have the pleasure back again.

Well, either which way - I felt confused for an initial amount of time. Now, thanks to viewing and reviewing the things and plotting and replotting the past and thinking and rethinking the goals, aims, and derivatives of the thing, I have been able to release that confusion and accept the thing for it, as it is.

Simply stated, in unobstructed laymen's terms (as I was apt to say a few moments back in the title of my "online self") : No matter. Things happen and so we just move on. See, you forget - that's how...that's why this works.

See. I'm okay now. So here - look at this. You go your way, live your life, and do please find happiness and enjoy as many good things as you possibly can. I will go mine, live mine, and do all the same to the best of my ability. In the end, I'm sure we'll meet at some crossroad and see the paths merge, and it'll be all the more fun - because you will have gone and lived an entire life before I see you again.

So go - enjoy life. I'll see you on the other side, I'm sure of it. And until then, thank you for showing me countless ways in which I still needed to grow. Thank you for being the one who taught me a lesson I wasn't learning on my own. Oh, and Godspeed my good friend.

-RK

Could really do with some sedatives

[4.18.05]
It's another one of those days that I've spent thinking - thinking of all the things I know I shouldn't think of. All of the things that make me remember, make me hurt, make the world such a harder place to live and such a colder place to admit that I'm still a part of...

(sigh) Damn.

I don't want to explain, can't find words to express thet things...and yet, I find myself trying time and time again. Perhaps it isn't in prose - it isn't in words that I should seek to find my ultimate comfort. Perhaps it isn't here that I should try to express...

I will try something else, try something less obvious and more desperate. Perhaps that will heal the wounds, at long last, that I can no longer pretend I feel on my forearms, and my chest, and my heart, and my soul...

-------
Stark death, struck out against the night
a death I wish I were dying tonight.
Hatred of a million things,
but none more than this - this
the place where my soul cannot find peace,
cannot be strong, will not be whole.
-------

[time lapse to current]
(sigh) Let's face it - First, that was terrible. Second, I'm not going to finish that.

The time is past, the mood is gone, and I have no desire to finish anything right now. So instead, here is the crap I wrote at work after the interview 19th's night, or was it 20th's morn? Irrelevant. Here's what's scribbled on sheets of torn-out paper. Don't take it too seriously; I'm sure I didn't...

-------
Didn't we love, and wasn't is beautiful?
Weren' there echos in the wind of everything that could have been?

I can't stand on the sidelines,
while you take the stage...
I can't (just) stand by and watch
while it all (just) fades away.
I can't (->) pretend to be
alright (->) when I'm not.

I knew the end would come some day,
and I would have to tell you...
I tried so hard to love you
but I had no way to tell;
you had so much more practice in that world
than I could have known.

To...
and to turn and walk away.
I wasn't like the other girls,
but you'd say I was just the same.
Three years didn't mean much
when it came down to the end (line).
I couldn't make you understand
what I felt in my soul (heart).

I will always know you, as a part of me
I will always thing of you (remember you)
as the love that could not be.
I will always hear echoes of words you spoke to me

violins cry and the way I feel inside,
dies tonight.

How fitting the dreams seem,
when you view them inside out.

I know you think I'll change my mind,
but not in this lifetime...

I know you think we're fighting
and it'll all blow over soon...
...I'm sorry I can't love you
or even be your friend.
I know you think I'll (see it), come to my senses soon.
I'm sorry I can't help you
or be (just) what you want (need).

I know it's hard to believe

-------

That's it. That's all that's in my heart - jumbled nonesense that I don't even care to make sense of anymore. No more hiding, no more pretending that there are flowers in a winter that won't stop returning. Instead, there. That's all there is. Don't go looking for more

-RK

These are private things...

For once, I don't care whose listening. I don't care who is out there, reading along to every word that my fingers - that my burnt and tattered and f-ed up heart play out. I don't care who can hear me or what they think of my words. They shouldn't even be sitting there, shouldn't be watching from the sidelines, shouldn't be listening to this messed up music anymore. You, sitting there in your chair reading words you can't possibly know half the darkness behind, shouldn't try to know how I feel or felt, shouldn't know that I still hurt - that I still think about the things that ruined me...that I still think of a past I wish in ways I never had.

You shouldn't know that. I shouldn't write it.

I shouldn't even say it or think it- but somehow, somewhere - I have to. Have to tell something, tell someone, go somewhere to hide away. I don't want the wounds revealed- don't want anyone to see the scars...but why do I have to fake it? Fake being okay, fake being alright, fake knowning what to do at every moment - fake being strong and sure and never doubting the path I've walked...

I don't want to uphold the image of someone who knows what they're always on about. I don't want to look like someone who isn't lost - but I don't want to be lost anymore either. I don't want to regret or hurt or be ashamed of all that I will become in the end...and yet, I all too often am.

Those that knew the answers have all turned away, and those that don't only stare down into the blackness - just thinking they know some solution I haven't already tried. But experience is a better teacher than their wise words. So, I guess you could say I know now. Not that it makes much of a difference...

I should have said I knew months ago. I should have said that I knew well enough four years ago. But, don't you see it? It was never just as easy as knowing something. Because I couldn't see why that would matter? I couldn't see what the problem was? I couldn't see - I guess you could say - what was inherantly flawed about it...or maybe just about me. I tried to see it, see what was in the deep abysses...I tried, you know. Tried to see it, tried to warn someone, tried so damn hard to be as honest as I could make myself. But that....(sigh) I see it now - in ways. Other ways, I don't know that I ever will.

But let's put it this way: It's better...no, say easier to blame the things I can see - to blame the proof right in front of the mirror before me than to blame something I can never explain away. And it's...easier...to know that I messed up, that I was the problem, that I caused the hurt in the end to myself and to the world. At least then, I can rationalize some of it away - and I don't have to stare into the face of the darkness that I don't want to admit is still alive. I don't want to say that I know it'll be there one day when I try to be happy again. And I don't want to say that it'll be there when I want to move on - want to really let go - want to forget for good about the things that came before.

I'll just take the blame. I'll just say it was me - it was always my faults and my shortcomings and my flaws that tore at the heart. It was my own misguided steps and my own misjudgements and my own ability to fall off the edge of the thing that made it all end...like this.

Really - It wouldn't be too far off, too far gone from the truth of the thing anyway. Everyone has their blame to take - sometimes, it just is better to take it all, and to try and forgive yourself someday, instead of someone else...

-RK

melancholy mendicant of mercy

Why was I right about all of that? Right about what I said and what I thought - and what I did about it, too. Because even in my misconstruements, I had to be right; of what I thought of who had the power to destroy me, and why it would never be what I saw it could have been. Why the pain wouldn't fade...why the anger wouldn't recede...why the wounds wouldn't heal...

I'm not perfect. I don't confess to things I know I am, save for the places where people never care to look. I tried so hard to express it - in words good enough for you, for someone to understand - but it never worked, was never enough. The void instea just took over and covered the words that I kept trying to get out of my charring soul; that same soul that would one day fall, fail, and be the remains of every mistake that I've ever made.

One day, they all stopped caring. And it was so simple, wasn't it? To just shut out the light of day and lock souls away - and then, blamed it all on me. As if the pain I'd made was somehow the reason; as if the things I did were somehow the problem; as if what I was was somehow not enough to save the world within me anymore, and it was all my doing...

...I wish that this, that I - that all of it was wrong. But it's not. So now what? Where else is there to run, what else is there to ruin, how else can I exist in the shallow shadow - the only evidence I still have that there is light somewhere in the coldness?

-------
Tried to give you warning, but everyone ignores me.
Told you everything loud and clear -
But nobody's listening.
Called to you so clearly, but you don't want to hear me.
Told you everything loud and clear -
But nobody's listening.

I've got a heart full of pain, head full of stress,
and a hand full of anger held in my chest.
Up hill struggle - blood, sweat, and tears.
Nothing to gain, everything to fear.
-Linking Park:Nobody's Listening
-------

I always believed in futures...
But that wasn't enough. So, what now?

-RK

Such hurts without words

I do not have the words to convey the feelings, the images, the motions that will not be expressed but cannot be ignored. It's like a shadow that you can sense but can't figure out what exactly it reflects, or a star that you know is there but cannot see in the sky, or lights that you know are shining somewhere off in the distance but cannot see for the fog.

I feel trapped tonight. Desperate, flailing, trapped. And somewhere between myself and the things I don't want to remember, there is sitting some dark barrier. Between myself and the way of healing, there is some wall that I cannot break - some fortress that I cannot penetrate. Perhaps it is no more than my fear - perhaps there is more in it. I just know that I sense it, like some place I cannot go - like some world I dare not touch, like some thing I cannot know.

Part of me wants to scream for the pain - part of me wants to allow it to shatter, like a broken mirror, where it lies. If only I could escape it...

If only I could hear you now. Hear those cries that I cannot be sure are there, in the night and the stillness and the air that is so unbreathable that it is suffocating me.

I'm so tired, afrighted, unexplainably cold tonight - shivering from the inside out because somehow something called it all to mind, and now I can't forget. Eyes burning like some kind of firelight in the thick black night where the stars ought to be shining - but instead I see...this. The tormentor of a soul so scared to admit to itself that it still feels for the fear of being dragged under the current, being drown in the tide, being lulled back to sleep in the warm water where death is sure to drift in the dead of this night.

I can find a million words, a thousand images - all good enough to explain all of the things they stand for. I could write pages on things like the make up of a star or the heat of an english summer - but I can't find words enough to express that which is buried somewhere within myself...

I could comfort, and empathize, and understand those that fear and feel and shiver alike - but I can't find the means to express something so base, so simple, so ... ... so unworthy of any expression at all.

The only conclusion is there are no words to express. There is no language, of man or otherwise on this earth, that could make the cold convulsions of the heart audible. There is no word, no voice, no stirring in any branch of any tree or any brushing of any blade of grass that will serve to speak to the breadth of the horror inside the stillness I cannot breach tonight. There is no tongue, no possible utterance of any creature on this plane that could speak to the stirrings hidden in the chambers of a heart, charred black by too many things.

And it's so simple to say: there are no words. Yet what does one do when language, when tongues of man, when all of the possible ways to express a thing are closed, cut off, useless refuse unable to be tamed? When every avenue is inadequate - and yet, the thing must be taken from the chambers of the heart before the fire extinguishes all life once known to be there? What is one to do when the thing cannot be said, cannot be known, can hardly be felt in more than the sobs and groans of that which it already is? When the thought is no more than eyes shut against the night and the sigh of a breath escaping from too deep within and the fall of the shoulders, head laid in palms, eyes cast to somewhere below the ground that still supports the frame?

When there is no stillness that could be held, no utterance of any cry that could suffice, no hope to get the thing from the seat where it dwells; what can the soul do? When the world is no solace and the wind even just a reminder of the thing itself that is so inexpressible, so deep that the knife cannot touch it - that even, you fear, death could not mar it. When the world is not enough to withhold it and the eyes are not enough to know it, and the hands not enough to claw at it and at least partially mangle the surface of it. When all of the forms of human thinking and reasoning and feeling are powerless against that which threatens to bring the darkest night of all. When foolish hope and vain trust and sudden joy cannot get near enough the thing to mean anything at all - and only the darkness deems what the thing is allowed to be...

Then what more can be done but to await the storm to fall, the eye and the calm of the thing to pass, and to hope that you survive the night?

-RK

They just...get it.

Nothing ever stops all these thoughs,
and the pain attached to them.
Sometimes I wonder why this is happening.
It's like nothing I can do will distract me
when I think of how I shot myself in the back again.
'Cause from the infinite words I could say
I put all the pain you gave me on display.
But didn't realize, instead of setting it free,
I took what I hated and made it a part of me.

[It never goes away]

Hearing your name, the memories come back again.
I remember when it started happening-
I'd see you in every thought I had,
and then the thoughts slowly found words attached to them.
And I knew as they escaped away,
I was commiting myself to them.
And every day I regret saying those things,
'Cause now I see that I took what I hated
And made it a part of me.

[It never goes away]

And now,
You've become a part of me.
You'll always be right here.
You've become a part of me.
You'll always be my fear.
I can't separate myself from what I've done.
I've given up a part of me,
I've let myself become you.

Get away from me
Gimme my space back.
You gotta just go.
Everything comes down to memories of you.
I've kept it in, but now I'm letting you know.
I've let you go.
Get away from me.

I've let myself become you.
I've let myself become lost inside these thoughts of you.
Giving up a part of me,
I've let myself become you.
-Linkin Park:Figure.09

-------
It's easier to run,
replacing this pain with something numb.
It's so much easier to go,
than face all this pain here - all alone.

Something has been take from deep inside of me-
A secret I've kept locked away.
No one can ever see wounds so deep they never show.
They never go away, like moving pictures in my head.
For years and years they've played.

If I could change, I would.
Take back the pain, I would.
Retrace every wrong move that I made, I would.
If I could stand up and take the blame, I would.
If I could take all the same to the grave, I would.

Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past,
bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have.
Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back,
And never moving forward,
So there would never be a past.

Just washing it aside -
all of the helplessness inside.
Pretending I don't feel misplaced is so much simpler than change.

It's easier to run,
replacing this pain with something numb.
It's so much easier to go,
than face all this pain here - all alone.
-Linkin Park:Easier to Run

-------
When this began, I had nothing to say.
And I'd get lost in the nothingness inside of me.
I was confused.
And I let it all out to find
that I'm not the only person with these things in mind,
inside of me.
But all the vacancy the words revealed
is the only real thing that I've got left to feel.
Nothing to lose -
Just stuck, hollow and alone.
And the fault is my own;
And the fault is my own.

I want to heal.
I want to feel what I thought was never real.
I want to let go of the pain I've held so long.
[Erase all the pain 'til it's gone, it's gone]
I want to heal.
I want to feel like I'm close to something real.
I want to find something I've wanted all along:
Somewhere I belong.

And I've got nothing to say.
I can't believe I didn't fall right down on m face.
I was confused, looking everywhere,
only to find that it's not the way I had imagined it all in my mind.
So what am I?
What do I have but negativity?
'Cause I can't justify the
way everyone is looking at me.
Nothing to lose -
Nothing to gain, hollow and alone.
And the fault is my own;
The fault is my own.

I never will know myself until I do this on my own.
And I will never feel anything else until my wounds are healed.
I will never be anything 'til i break away from me.
And I will break away,
I'll find myseld today.

I want to heal.
I want to feel like I'm somewhwere I belong.
-Linkin Park: Somewhere I belong

Just for fun or because I can

This is how this works. Read on, it's rather fun actually.

-------
Choose a band/artist and answer ONLY IN SONG TITLES by that band:

Artist/Band: Jimmy Eat World

Are you male or female: Call It In the Air

Describe yourself: Thinking, that's all

How do you feel about yourself: Drugs or Me

Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: If You Don't, Don't

Describe your current girlfriend/boyfriend: Untitled

Describe where you want to be: Night Drive

Describe what you want to be: Nothing Wrong

Describe how you wish: Clarity

Describe what you wish for: The Most Beautiful Things

Describe how you live: Splash, Turn, Twist

Describe how you love: Believe in What You Want

Share a few words of wisdom: Just Watch the Fireworks
-------

Well, that was amusing. All from reading Guitrst's blog. Cheers mate!

-RK

Finale...

It isn't that I'm bitter - it's more just that I'm the fool. A facade of intelligence wrapped in the warmth of brown hair and grey eyes - all turned together in pale skin and body little more than a torso.

Don't you see it, how I've been faking it all this time? You thought I was the sign of honorary society. You thought I was the mark of great thought. You thought these words, this writing actually meant something to the world, and even to myself. But all along, I was doing a great job of feigning the mind to conceive of such things. I was dreaming up fantasies and putting them in words better than myself - so you wouldn't think me so foolish, so daft, so mistakingly mislead.

Yet, I was.

I was confused and turned around - and I kept making the wrong decisions and kept saying the wrong things and kept being the wrong ways and kept winning at the wrong games. It cost me in the end, you know. More than craps at Las Vegas, more than super lotto in Los Angeles, more than losing the best paiting at a high soceity auction somewhere in upscale London. Oh yes, it cost me in the end. And I'd have paid it all off, you see - but I'm still in debt so far that I can't see above the waterline.

I'm drowning.

Drowning under the weight, under the thought, under the memory of all of the things I thought I was - or things I made believe I was going to be, or hopes of things I knew that I thought you'd say I was - if that makes any sense.

And yet, it was so simple. Like writing a paragraph on the macabre when you have no idea what your Poe essay's on about, or painting a field when you don't know what leashes it in, or creating a character that you aren't sure who he'll grow up to be. It's simple to begin without knowing, at first, where you are going.

But somewhere along the way, one would hope you'd figure it out. I never did - not until the very last step, the very last move, the last beat of the song I was supposed to be dancing perfectly to. Then I knew. I knew where my steps were leading, and I saw the finale in my mind. I knew every spin that I ought to make and every place my feet ought to be - and I saw it all in my mind, like a movie of that stunning unity between the music and the movement... .. but I saw it all one beat too late.

Instead, I faultered in the end. I took a step out of time, and the music faded: my skirt stopped twirling, my hair lie still across my bare back and my eyes, painted like leopards, went dim. The lights slowly faded, leaving me engulfed in the darkness of an empty stage, save me - all in the wrong position. When the lights came back up, there was no one watching - no one clapping - no one caring.

I'd done the finale wrong, I'd danced the last step off, and it'd ruined the whole of the thing. It would have been so easy to finish it, to be in the right place at just the right time; To feel my hair grace around my shoulders in the last spin on a stage where eyes were glued for the watching. To know that the gentle kiss of my skirt's hem at my ankles shimmered just so in the light and the shadows danced that perfect duet with my form on the wall - and all of it, being so wholly complete, was done. It would have been so simple, so easy, so perfect -

But it all came one beat too late. And that is the tragedy, the constant pervasive tragedy of the thing I cannot forget and am not allowed to relive.

-RK

this doesn't mean anything

Of course.

I'm terza rima, and I talk and smile. Where others lock their rhymes and thoughts away I let mine out, and chatter all the while. I'm rarely on my own - a wasted day Is any day that's spent without a friend, With nothing much to do or hear or say. I like to be with people, and depend On company for being entertained; Which seems a good solution, in the end.

And if I weren't that, this'd be true:

I am, of course, none other than blank verse. I don't know where I'm going, yes, quite right; And when I get there (if I ever do) I might not recognise it. So? Your point? Why should I have a destination set? I'm relatively happy as I am, And wouldn't want to be forever aimed Towards some future path or special goal. It's not to do with laziness, as such. It's just that one the whole I'd rather not Be bothered - so I drift contentedly; An underrated way of life, I find. What Poetry Form Are You?

[laughter]

Sprinkle cold water on this dusty sky.
Time will pick you up and then she will take you for a rise there.
While I'm here and you're always gone -
Forbidden fruit tastes better left alone.
Yeah sure, forbidden fruit tastes better left alone.

(interlude)

How long must I wait for a river?
How long must I wait?

(interlude)

Gave love a chance to fly,
and I left without a backward glance or a wave goodbye.
I need a spotlight on this road I've known.
Well, I would ask for directions but nobody's home.
Yeah, I would ask for directions but nobody's home.

How long must I wait for a river?
How long must I wait?

Where is the beginning and where does it start?
Where is the clock-maker when time is running out?
-Soapbox Symphony:Many Things

-------
That, it's friday, and life is good. Save this eye infection I have [Pink eye thanks to some random chick on campus contracting it two days prior] *rolls infected eyes* But other than that, *reference title* - I pray you can and will too.

Tonight: all-night city vigil for the banishment of poverty through trade. Wish us blessing in our attempts =D

-RK

-RK

It's the ooh, the gonna, and the girl

or A Sestina with Me: Wubble me senseless in a jelly-bean colored jar with peaches

Hiss, hiss, then take a missed target and Eat It's Face?

Your bawd is too fooléd for me. Eat that you scowl.

Chunkay
munkay

doo dee doo doo
bee doo doo, doo
doo

Alternate lives live well in jungle habitats.

Voodoo. Do you do? Well that'll do Baloo!

Woe to the Kilborn Identity and it's knaves!

Eye ate my bones last tomorrow

Uncle Boolie loves his tree topped fences

You will *music-note* Love May *music-note* until the Spring day is in no way okay. So what d'yah say?! <- emphatically, please

Thank you, Academy of Internation love and Roses, for choosing me as your thorn of hope.

Buckhollow is a much better place to vacation than your...Damn...no, dang it to Fiddlesticks! Write a story on't.

I've Got no room to fill my lonéd heart now!!!

See't, done. Here!

R G
x I

-RK

It begins...

I won't tell you what has begun today - but be sure that it is a new era dawning on a horizon you might not be able to see. Be aware that despite what you know and don't know of it, it is still there - a breathing force against the dark and hopeles backdrop of what all yesterdays, and yesterweeks, and yestermonths have become.

So, today - the new regime has been instilled in the land, new laws have been laid down, and the beginning of something new and bright and brilliant and magnificent - something that will make glad the green grass of the new Spring and that will restore the life in the seemingly dead branches has begun.

The completion is in no way in sight yet. The last curve in the road still unseen, and the last step before the marker of the end of the race still a mystery. But, the gun has sounded and the race has begun - and tomorrow, the world will look so much different than it did today.

And this, for as long as the change does take.

-RK

Much happier with the progress

After going through nearly every single style, template, idea, and creative concept that my pregnant mind could concieve of - I have landed upon one that at leat satiates the clinging desire for something newer, something better, something else.

Thus, in all its lack-of new glory, here is dear eros:

I hope you can at least appreciate all of the bitter angst I have spent in pining over the newer lovely - and perhaps you will even think it looks a mite bit better. I do pray so. I honestly do.

Otherwise, at least enjoy the prospect.

-RK

I'm in shock:

--Volcom is an 83-er, not an 82-er

--Yosoyr is going to study lit/theatre and become a teacher

--BaybeDoll and I are working at being friends again

--I am perpetually joyful, even *gasp* happy about my existence

--I only have six weeks left

--I ate a bag of prawn cocktail crisps...and they weren't horrible

Well, I can't explain any of the above. It doesn't make sense to my psyche, maybe it does to yours...in some other universe.

-RK

No, this isn't about you. Honest.

Winter comes in springtime - but that can't be helped. Dreams are shattered by untacted words that were not meant, it seems, to cause such pain. That can't be helped either. Thoughts coursing through the mind, spin together by ill-thought things from mouths not so hell bent on making misery as breeding knowledge, yet failing. But it can't exactly be helped.

Hatred of the thing runs deeper than the marks it makes, leaving shows on the skin of a fear that must live somewhere too deep down to access anymore. No, she tries to expalin - it can't be helped.

Flickers of hope, dying against gray light in a gray room with gray eyes that don't shine. Shattered glass on the floor with a cupboard full of good things to eat - and blood all mixed in with the snacks, ruining the world of pleasure it could have made. Bits and pieces of a life, scattered like lost earrings on dingy carpet where nothing can be seen.

Would you recognize her still, still if she came to you with her eyes bleeding and her heart torn from the cavity where everyone once guessed it was beating? Would you acknowledge her if she told you everything - all of those fears and dreams that stopped her from being? Would you even hear the quaver of sound, the slight change in the temperature of an already cold room - know that she was there, know that she was dying, know that you were the one she'd looked at to save her?

Would you know if she thanked you or kissed your feet for giving her those dreams?

Would it matter that she was different - not like the other ones you knew, not prancing around in ribbons or dancing half-drunk in the other room. Would you know? Would you notice? Would you care if you did?

...Well, it doesn't matter because the girl who you've seen, the girl with gray eyes in a gray sweatshirt dancing to the gray music is all gone. She died last night, whilst reading something someone wrote - not really to her or about her...but it still made all the difference. And she sat there, just grinning, laughing at how foolish she'd let it make her feel before - thinking of the drinks and the music and the smell of the place where she will always remember you. It made her feel so childish - but it made her feel better, too.

So last night - yeah, she remembered you. But don't take it too seriously, not that it'd get mistaken for that anyway. Because you shouldn't be wondering about her - she died last night, in a pool of her own laughter. In a high school whirl of girlish glee - she disappeared from here, from this place, from me.

She might return in days to come when silly little things like baseball caps and living room tables and bars and clubs come back and remind her of you. She might even still haunt the places where you say you might have been...but not so that she becomes evident. Because she's learned; learned alot about people who are lessons, and times, and people who are and aren't the sorts of friends that matter in the end. You were one of those lessons - and she owes it to you to remember, to think of the times and the smells and the way the flowers hit the pavement in the city when she remembered you and made the memory all that much sweeter - but really, to her you were the lesson, the time, the ghost in a past that won't come again - but will sweeten other things in other times, if allowed.

You were the only one that stayed. You were the second of them that came. The first was many years ago - when she was young and silly and didn't know much about life at all. But you- you were the first, you were second - the one who made a difference when a difference mattered. She will thank you, someday in her sleep when she remembers you. But until then, she is dead - make no attempts to stir her...please.

Thank you.

-RK

Stupid quizzes are most excellent

I'm so over it. Back to the beginning - back to where I can be happy and enjoy life, and back to where I started out from and wanted to end up. How, you ask?

I read through one of those silly little quizzes - and it opened my eyes to things that I didn't know before - things that made the thing more real, more humanistic - less perfect. That was all it took laddies and lasses. It was that simple - one word, one passage, one motion of a thought that made the thing more real - less dreamlike.

And now, I am back to a state of gentle stasis. Back to resting position. Back to joys and wonders and laughs and sighs and all the wondeful things that people like me get to enjoy.

And all, thanks to a stupid little quiz. Marvelous!

-RK

All thanks to Widge, really

I feel the need to explain my absence *glares in Widge's general direction*. I think he could amply explain. Between his stupid Gaia and 'myspace', I've got no life anymore. It's just sad - I'm telling you - seriously sad.

(sigh) But in other news - I'm sick too. Cold: sore throats, stiff neck, aches...and I'm back to those 'attacks' that baffle the doctors. Yeah, I'm so happy :0|

But let's put the confetti away and stop throwing the old pity party, shall we? It's getting old and I have people to meet up with tonight - namely just catching the tail end of Singspiration like I always do and chatting it up with a newish bud and Avi and maybe a few random others as well. I might get some cakes even - but who knows, I do really feel ill.

But enough. (sigh) I just had to let the world of blogger-fiends know that I was still alive, that I haven't fallen off the face of this island and dropped, drowning into the ocean, and that I haven't completely lost my creative spirit. If I did, I should think I'd die. (sigh) No, most of it has gone to writing Colorless Motions for class. I may share a bit later...but we will see how adventurous I am feeling.

Until later, I'm off to feel better and await the results of my first online grocery shopping experience - thanks to ASDA online. Don't ask *rolls eyes*.

-RK

I know

But that doesn't mean I can always saywhat I want to say. If I did, chances are it would either get lost in the ether or it would come out all wrong. It wouldn't mean what I would want it to mean, wouldn't sound how I'd want it to sound, wouldn't be what I'd want it to be. So, I'm left with this - this, that will just have to do.

A dead rosebush in a dry garden, and a little rain on the roof to wash it all away. Memory sweetening and going sour - dreams cracking and dreams coming to life. A path crowded with thorns and thistles, and a path clear, with sun striking down to warm the cool brown earth. A simple scene set with simple things, and darker one set with the past.

Someday, I told myself - I was going to wake up. It came on a midnight, one I didn't expect or see coming. But I did - I woke up. I saw the sun again, and then I saw the rain clouds coming closer, closer, closer. It didn't scare me, for the first time in my life. I wanted to tell someone that - someone who'd know what I meant - but I couldn't. Couldn't get the words out, couldn't get my voice out, couldn't speak up loud enough over the roar of the storm that was coming to get through anymore.

It's okay now, though. It's all okay now. At least, the path that my feet somehow found is. It's the right path to be on. It isn't always safe or comfortable - but it's right. And the best thing of it, I better here. I feel like, for once in a long time, I am walking in the right direction. If I walk uphill, that'll be okay. If I stumble and fall and have to get up again, that'll be okay. And if I just end up walking along the mountainside for the rest of my life, somehow - that'll be okay.

I'm not who I used to be, know that. It's funny - I always knew I was going to change, knew life was going to change, knew it all was going to change. I just thought it would be so much different when it did. It is different - but not in the way I saw it before. And I thought it was going to change sooner than it did. Okay, so it took until now - but something is happening, you know?

The only thing I can say is that. Because something is happening. I don't know what it means or where it leads or who I am going to be tomorrow. I only know that something has started happening. After almost a year of stagnation, sitting and waiting for my weighted heart to somehow spring back to life within my chest; finally some touch, some stir, some movement in the etherial plains of the world has vibrated a string somewhere in my soul - and I'm not the same.

Sure, parts of me are - but on the whole? I'm changed. And I wouldn't go back if I could. I wouldn't take it all back, wouldn't be who I was then, wouldn't change - for all the world.

I feel joyful again. It's been so long. I'm not angry now. I'm not hurt now. I'm not so broken as I used to be. I look at my life and at my dreams - and yeah, things aren't perfect and I'm not where I always wanted to be - but for the first time, I feel right about them, about it, about life. I feel like I can breathe again, like I can be 'me' again, whatever that means. And it's amazing.

No. I wouldn't go back for all the gold in the world. I wouldn't re-do it. I wouldn't change a thing. I'm glad now where I was and where I am. And I wouldn't change anything. Because now, I know what I was going toward, and it made all the difference.

-RK

Care package(s)!

1 box cheddar Goldfish
1 box assorted Teddy Grahams (Chocolate, Honey, Cinnamon)
8 4-packs of NutterButters
1 pink egg of Reese's Miniature peanut butter cups
2 4+1 packs of 400 ISO Fujifilm
1 box Frosted Brown Sugar Cinnamon Poptarts
3 packages loose Poptarts (Strawberry...I think =0S)
2 bags Nacho Cheesier Doritos
1 movie that rocks
2 CDs that rock too
1 AZ Map of London
2 books of awesome stickers
9 loose sheets of awesome stickers
1 6-pack of Lip Smackers
1 single pack of Lip Smackers
1 awesome springy tank top
Probably a dozen plastic shopping bags
1 card full of love
1 box full of love and home and all goodness and stuff

Mama & Daddy: Thanks a million! I couldn't say thank you enough - you have made my day, made me smile, and made my life so very glad!

And Thanks Volcom.

-------
1 fuzzy chirping chickie
1 chicken that lays gumball eggs
2 Corvettes
1 bobble-head butterfly from Mexico
1 purple gift bag
3 sheets tissue paper
23 plastic egggs stuffed with Tootsie Rolls and Reese's Minuature peanut butter cups
1 rockin' card to make me smile from ear to ear
1 box full of purple grass and Easter cheer

Mel: You are the sweetest ever! What on earth would I do without a "sister" like you? Thank you so much, I hope that your Easter was the best. And by the way, your package was only a few days shy of, no worries =0D
-------

Here's for the love I get from home. I miss you all so much! Fear not - soon my "exile" shall be ended and I shall no longer be bereft of you beautiful people any longer!

-RK

Thoughts I can't really bring under one banner...

Here's something simple just because I have been thinking again. Wait, thinking again? Hmm, that seems unneccesary to state really - thinking's just what I do. It's like breathing, or writing, or being alive - I just do it [not like Nike though]. I don't have to try or take the time...it just happens.

Sort of life the course of life. It just ... well, happens.

I've had the strangest epiphany. One I never thought I would face - one I never thought would be an issue to me. Now, I'll share it here because it's shocking enough for me to have to write it down.

Getting married 'young' is no longer an option for me. I'm old enough now, and have enough things to 'finish' between now and the effect that it just isn't possible. My other thought is what this could mean, what age could be telling me. It's strange - I never saw myself here, never saw that coming. Yet, here I am. (sigh) Life really can throw you some of the time.

But for now, I have other concerns. I really should get over some of those concerns - namely one...just so that I stop feeling like everything I do is completely lame and absurd. But, as Avi has said, that really is the effect of the thing. I am not actually dumb, but the thing makes me feel that I am at a very constant and steady rate. And that really is the problem.

And for the record: it is Really not funny to recieve an email not more than three seconds after you have already done what it told you to do. That is what we call irony - cosmic irony if you will. And no, I didn't laugh because it hurt too much to cry. I was laughing because of the absurd hillarity of the situation. And I am more than positive that God was laughing too.

Well, God, feel free...despite my exasperation on the matter - it was funny!

And as an afterthough:

Let's steal time. All that has been devistated can be re-created. Realize, we pick up the broken pieces of our lives, giving ourselves to each other to rest our head on.

-RK

A strange sort of thanks to give, especially on this day

So, today ought to be a miserably horrible day, right? Well, other than the fact that I am completely wiped out - dead, stone tired at 4.05 just sitting at my compie talking to people I've been waiting all week to talk to - the day hasn't been going too terribly. Yet, anyway. But in other news, I have something rather important to get out...

Whatever possessed you to do such a thing, I've not a clue. Yet, because of your momentary insanity - I owe you the greatest of thanks. If it weren't for you and your ideas about whatever it was that you had an idea about when you did that, I would not be where I am right now nor would I be feeling the managerie of things I am feeling.

So even through all of the terrible things, you ended up doing me the best good in the end - and for that I owe you many, many, many thanks.

I don't believe you could have known what you did. I can't imagine you doing it had you known. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you did know, and maybe you did it for the very reason I think you never would have. Who really knows? But either way, you did what you did - and it meant what it meant, and I am now here where I am. So thank you anyway.

-RK