wrong words in wrong ways to unstick first gear

I'm tired. Tired of the squimishness, in the pit of my stomach. Tired of the sinking in my heart when I remember what it really is. Tired.

What if I said it? Said I want to be happy again. Need something to help me. Something like Disneyland - but in a bottle, or a letter, or a pill. Something that will make me laugh when I get down; make the world good again. Despite.

I am terrified of all things,
frightened of the dark.
I am.
You are taller than a mountain,
deeper than the sea.
You are.
-------
I was closer to you back then.
I was happier.
I was.
You are fading further from me.
Why don't you come home to me.

Hold me. Hold me.
Take me with you cuz I'm lonely.

Yeah. That's about it. But can this be forever? Exile last a lifetime - banishment, an eternity? There must be some release. Some escape. Some way down off the mountain where there's still some peace.

It's just difficult to see. To get there. To know. To believe. To get unstuck again.

-RK

splash

Weak creature. Feeble little limbs that don't hardly reach above the waterline. Frail bones that break so easily - snap in two at the slightest touch, at the weakest caress, under the least amount of pressure. So easily broken, torn to pieces - its a wonder you survive. A miracle you're even still alive.

Killed, nailed to a wooden cross that you spent the past years building to crusify your enemies on. But now its you, hanging there, wondering where your friends and family and lover has gone. You should have known. It's been winter for over a lifetime here. Dammit little one, you should have known.

Here. And they hand you a basket full of roses and a handful of uprooted flowers. Take those. Do something with them. They're better off out of our way. We've got plans for this place. Plans for a parking lot and a superstore and a mall with all the clothing stores that all the young girls love to go shop at nowadays.

Well, that's fine. Yeah -- I mean, sure, you could do it. You always knew you could. That wasn't what you struggled with. You knew you could. That wasn't what you laid awake about either. It wasn't the ability or the ingrained talent for it. But it was always...would you?

Would you ever hold your breath, jumping in so that the water splashed over your head? Would you ever fall, head first, into a pool of some waterfall that you didn't know? Would you ever bathe in rivers you didn't recognize? Would you ever swim without your floaties on? Ever really plunge yourself into the deep end without being afraid, without the terror of drowning, without the fear of losing what breath you had left?

Would you ever be willing to give in, to place your bet, to take the risk it would take, to count the cost of what it would mean? Would you ever be strong enough or weak enough or enough of whatever it would take for you to really do it?

Well, would you?

-RK

Tonight on 'This Is Anima Lace'.

Announcer: Good evening ladies and gentle fellows. On tonight's show we will be hosting a live interview by your's truly, Anima Lace. We have the pleasure of having here with us the author of this month's number one best seller, If I were That Guy... And now, I am pleased to introduce...Ms. Lyllia Hart.

Lace: Good evening Ms. Hart.

Hart: Hello Anima.

Lace: So, let's get straight to business. I've heard If I were That Guy has sold over two million copies.

Hart: *chuckles*

Lace: So how does it feel to be a best selling author, Ms. Hart?

Hart: Oh, please, just Lyllia. Well, Anima, I can't say I know how it feels. I've only just gotten here! *laughs*

Lace: Of course, of course. But in the two months that you've been on top, have you experienced any significant changes to your lifestyle?

Hart: Well, I get more fanmail than before. But to be honest, it's more of a pain than anything. I mean, I like my alone time. I like to just be...me. That's hard to do as a best seller, you know?

Lace: I can't say I do *chuckles*. But I can only imagine it would be a hassle.

Hart: If you only knew, Anima. It's endless.

Lace: So what about this book, Lyllia. Where did that one come from?

Hart: Oh. It all started in a small side-shop cafe one day. I was sitting there, sipping an authentic cafe latte, which by the way is unmatchable, when I saw this old man walk in and order authentic pasta in Italian.

Lace: So you were in Italy, then?

Hart: Of course. Veneizia.

Lace: I see.

Hart: Yes, I went to Milano and then Firenze, next.

Lace: That's Venice, Milan and Florence - if I'm not mistaken, Lyllia.

Hart: Oh, right. Yes. Of course. *rolls her eyes* Anyway - I was in Venezia and I saw this man. And he sat by the window with his pipe. I watched as he stared out the window at the boats passing on the canal. When his pasta came, he took little note of it. He just kept staring, as if he was waiting his whole life for something.

Lace: Well, was he?

Hart: You see, that's the thing. I never found out. I finished off my caffe latte and by the time I set down my cup, he'd left. I spent the rest of my time in Italy just wondering about him. What was he waiting for? Who was out there, on the other side of some unaccessible canal somewhere? What was his Venezia?

Lace: So you wrote a book about him?

Hart: Well, no. Not exactly. I thought about it, about him for months, like I was saying. And it wasn't until I finally returned to the States that I even thought about writing.

Lace: What made it occur to you to make it into a book, then?

Hart: One day, I was sitting at my own window in a Paris Las Vegas hotel room, just staring out of over the ocean of lights for hours. I had ordered some room service - pasta even, but not authentic. I hadn't touched it. I was thinking about that man. Then, it hit me. What if someone saw me now, and what if they ended up thinking about me like I was thinking about him? And I realized, we all do it, at some point in our lives. And I had to write about it.

Lace: So, Mr. Italy was your big inspiration. Now the secret is out.

Hart: Yep, that's it. All it took was a moment in Venezia. *laughs* But couldn't we all say that about ourselves?

Lace: I'm not sure what you are getting...

Hart: Oh, come on Anima. You can't tell me you've never thought about your life and said to yourself, "All it took was that one moment in wherever to change everything."

Lace: *chuckles* No, you're right.

Hart: And see, that's what my book is trying to say. It's just showing us how we all have our "one moments in...". It's just pointing out what we already know.

Lace: But in a very clever way, I must say.

Hart: Why thank you.

Lace: Well, Lyllia, thank you for joining me tonight. I'm afraid that's all the time we've got.

Hart: Thank you for having me. It was lovely.

Lace: And I'm sure we have all enjoyed hearing a bit more about If I were That Guy. Please, if you aren't one of the two million who have already gone out and bought Lyllia's book, go to your nearest bookstore and pick one up. It will change the way you look at all those "moments" you have.

Hart: Thank you, and please if you have bought my book, do take a few minutes to at least read the back cover. It's a stellar cover that Jimmy wrote for me.

Lace: We'll be sure to. I'll be sure to. I've got my copy right here *pulls it out and flashes it to the camera* And now, ladies and gentle fellows, I have some reading to do. And so do you.

Hart: Thank you, Anima. And thank you New York.

Lace: Goodnight.

--Camera Off--

-RK

75% off

Most, all, some, none of this happened. At some point or another. Either way. Listen Billy Pilgrim--

Walking into the small, mostly overcrowded clothes store called something like "Surf & Shop Ala Wai", she instantly took note of the bathing suits. It was her favorite item to shop for. She had over six now -- although at least two of those didn't count because one was quickly becoming sea-through and shedding the leftover white powder from bad elastic while the other was already sitting in the rubbish bin back home. Yet, her eyes could never be stayed against the beauty and sparkle of spandex, ties, and floral glitter.

She glanced quickly over the sizes, finding the xs-s section, which typically suited her quite well. She smiled, tugging at the hanger of a particularly pleasing coconut colored string-bikini. Her eyes guiltily glanced for a moment toward the racks marked "Take an extra 75% off already reduced prices". The signs were neon red, if that is possible -- difficult to miss in a glance. But with a quick shake of the head, the elastic and spandex drew her mind back to the rows of bikinis and board shorts and one piece glories.

It wasn't long before she had three, four, five...twenty pieces filling her arms. She dazzled at them, making her way slowly toward the fitting room. She knew it would probably be a six item limit. It was annoying, but she'd deal with it. Maybe she could even sneak by...Nope. There was the girl, with the numbered cards. She sighed.

"Twenty-one."

"Miss, the limit is six. You'll have to put those to the side and get back in line."

A look behind her told her this wasn't such a problem. The "Surf & Shop Ala Wai" was empty. SHe shrugged. "Sure. Yeah, no problem." She gathered her six pieces and slipped into a changing room, closing the not-so-effective curtain behind her. Slipping into a particularly lovely yellow tank bikini with palm trees and hula girls, she smiled at her reflection.

It might take her hours. The suits may all be well over $15 a piece. She may not get anything anywhere near 75%+ off. She may not even buy one. But that didn't make a difference. For a while, she was the centre of a world made of bathing suits and paradise. That's what mattered.

She was happy.

-RK

pinked

Here's my secret and I'd rather like to keep it that way. The little fuzzy pet in the back of my soul, keeping all of my dark corridors unlit and all of my unopened packages sealed and all my barred doors locked. I know that half the world is interested, the other half could be paid to be. But I don't much care about that. I want to keep you and life and the world the way it is. Right here -- like this. Locked forever in this little glimmer of perfection.

I don't want to wake up from dreams or have nightmares like last night.

I want to dance with sugar cane and become a part of the ocean and feel liquid sunshine kiss my eyes every time I awake. I want to look out of the window and see the world -- all its secrets and hidden truths and half-lies that it keeps. I want to know it all...in a moment. Without any hesitation at all.

I wish stars were for wishing and ribbons were for racing and sunshine was for bathing and the world was for loving and dansing -- constantly dansing. It's not - I know that. But it doesn't change the wishes that I wish upon gas nebulas in other galaxies that I'll probably never see. And it doesn't change my secrets or my whisepers - or the way I keep them from you anyway.

And in the end, all of this doesn't really change you or me or the world much anyway. But we've already bothered. We've already talked it out and spent the night over it and made things the way things are. We've already blown out the candles and made our wishes on our nebulas and told God why we deserve Christmas presents this year. So what difference will it make?

I wager -- not much.

-RK

north shore

It rains. Mostly, on the windward side - but it rains. No, actually - it pours. Drenching the ground, you, and any towels unsuspecting visitors have laid on the beach. And apparently, if it rains for over half the morning, it rains all day.

One won't snorkel under such conditions. Right. But, one will swim out to flat island. That makes perfect sense.

Oh, so that's what it looks like when a man-o-war attacks. Insteresting. Oh, and that's what it's like being far too far out in the ocean - praying to God you don't get one either stuck in your hair or wrapped around any other appendage you may be flailing around in your attempt to drag both boogie board and paniced self to shore - with wind and a current and a weavey sea. Right - great time at K-Bay.

And now we sit, waiting. After Cheese Burger, which cost too much but was good and facilitated eating far too much. After all the aforementioned 'fun'...which most of it really was. After the best shave ice in the world from School St. which you will never comprehend the amazing quality of. After a day in the lifestyle of a carefree wanderer. We wait for fireworks just beyond the Ilikai - probably.

And well, that's it for now.

-RK

kailua

For starters, leafy seadragons are the coolest animals in the ocean. Sea horses are next. Both are immensely awesome.

Next - a plate lunch is really the only acceptable meal to eat here.

Thirdly, if you want to find a good plate lunch you have to first deal with the 'tourist information' anyone Kama'aina will assume you want. Then, you have to figure out how to say 'No, I'm not Kama'aina - but I once...was. I know what a real plate lunch is, and now I'm just looking for the closest good eatin' place that any good Kama'aina would eat at. Can you help me out?' in no more than one sentence -- five words is best. After that, you will get at what you wanted to get at. But only after that. Do not assume any local will do any more. They won't.

And lastly, the only thing Waikiki has over Kailua is NOT the sand. It is NOT the waves. And it is certainly, most certainly NOT the company. Really -- all it's good for is the sand shelf quite a ways off shore. Other than that, go to Kailua if you've got the ability. You'll understand.

The menu? north shore.

That's all for the updates. Don't worry - especially the smkers who got a 'special' post *rolls eyes*. I'm having a grand ol' time and I wouldn't trade it for...almost...anything. Oh, and I'm getting a tan! ~gasp~

Until I can smuggle more internet -- that's all I've got. *sigh* Back to the beautiful shoreline.

-RK

06 14 2005 : 2.02

Too much wind over this cold ocean, not enough sunlight striking the high waves crashing on the bleached beachfront. Too much wind blowing around the hollowed out buildings. Too many words breaking like waves on the ears -- too much silence, too much weight, too much.

The little railing your leaning on isn't going to hold. The cliff you're standing on isn't going to stay. The rocks your climbing are going to fall.

So, this is what true confession feels like, is it? This is what it feels like to have the world to carry, to have the weights removed, to have that old rugged cross lifted. This is what life with direction and purpose and aim feels like, is it?

This rat race of getting beyond and getting ahead and leaving behind anything that matters -- so, this is life? That's it, huh? That's all we get out of it.

A little snippet of paradise in some remote location it'll cost you half your annual income to get to. A random rainbow in the middle of some old English parish somewhere. And after all the glory, all the warmth, all the dansing you can do -- there's the cold. The shards that will leave you bleeding like never before. The brokenness that will break you to pieces. The emptiness that will consume you, if you allow it way into your soul.

But if this is confession - you had better know. What do you think I'm lost for? Constantly, I doubt myself, make myself surrender my own body - my own life to the flames. Constantly, sick controls make ties in my own mind -- and constantly, they are tugged and tugged and tugged.

No one has the right to tug. No right to any ownership here. No right to -- no right to change things anymore. That was where it should have stopped. But it didn't, and it doesn't, and to this day the pain still comes back to me. The echoes of the scars and the wounds both you and I know were made.

...I should have been alseep. I should be sleeping now. But these fears, these terrors of what tomorrow will force before me next keep me awake. Nightmares, living like the daylight, keep me awake. Doubt and uncertainty and the still desire to give up and let death once again lead keep me awake.

So this is selfishness.

Love is not selfish. It does not seek itself. It does not covet what it cannot have. It does not seek destruction and pain over life. Love does not corrupt or ensnare or trap. Love does not hold like chains down to the ground the wounded bird. Love does not cage in the spirit of those begging to be free. Love does not push and break and bear thorns that cause love to bleed. It is not any of those things.

Love is, if anything in this world, both patient and kind. Most of us are neither.

-RK

waikiki

First I married the ocean and made love to the sky. Then, I walked barefoot across beaches, over parks, and through city streets. Streets littered with people from all parts of the world -- all seeking the same thing as me. Peace. Excitement. Life.

I found it. While my soul filled with the spray of a sweet, warm ocean and the sun kissed my warm shoulders and the wind whispered sweet nothings into my mind -- I found it.

Simple pleasures like velvet-touched beaches and sugar beaded wave-crests. Like ice covered in rainbows and littered with joy. Like a city filled with paradise. Like a soul filled with comfort. Like plate lunches made of the sky and the sea and room 2006 somewhere looking out over sweetness.

This place, where life has always begun, reminds me of the city where life seemed to end. The beauty mingled with the joy - abundance - overflowing life; the same beauty mingled with despair - loss - unstopable death. Strange how that works out. Strange, indeed.

There was a future that only felt as if ...seemed to slip, fall, disappear. Now is held in sight a future that can only hope to exist. Ask the moon if there is chance of that dream, this dream coming to life; I can't imagine it will answer though. Instead, it's better now to sit on the edge of completion and look out over the ocean of decisions and wait.

Someday, that completion will come. Some may have been right to say -- it may not be here that we will find that which we seek. But it matters not. The sought will be found -- even if only at the end.

-RK

So it's really farewell to everything like the Winchester

In general, life's pretty much on display in a museum under thin, labeled glass - for anyone in the world to see. Y'see- I'm good at picking up the proverbial pen and paper, scribbling down the days, and writing my soul away. It's simple when you have the page - the written word - the persona.

I know, we've talked about this before - you and I. People've said words like these. I've thought thoughts like these. We've all known phrases and sentences and grammatical syntaxes like these. And we've walked around the maypole with the ribbons in our hands and in our hair -- danced around them, walked with and beside them, skirted them, and splashed in their lavishing coolness. But honestly - none of that is new.

Then there's you. Yeah, but you already know that. What you might not know is that something there made the difference. It wasn't that it made life perfect, or stellar, or that we felt less like what we were before we knew. It wasn't that we remade life or overexerted ourselves or made the world come face to face with its worst fears about life. It wasn't that we said all there could be said or did all there was to do. It wasnt't that it was the best of times or the worst of times or the worst storm at just the right time. You have to know - it wasn't that.

You changed me. I'm not sure I'll ever know how you did it. But you changed me. From the frightened child balled up like clay before what felt like a hesitant potter into the young woman wearing floral skirts in the middle of town centre market, picking fruits fresh to eat. From the blurry-eyed babe to the world-wise traveler. From moral goddess to cunning fox -- to this.

You know you made the difference, when difference was all that was needed? You gave the push when the climb down looked impossible. You held out your hand when the climb up seemed too steep. You handed out wings to cross the chasms keeping life away. You made it known that it wasn't how we said what we meant or who we thought we were that made all the difference. But that it was all in how we lived.

You did that. Tamed the wild disease quickly making me a leper, posted signs to show the way back to the healing waters, and made notes for the times when we'd all be lost.

I bet you'll never know what it meant. Just because words cannot express; hope cannot define; even faith cannot show all the changes, alterations, reformations you have caused. But in the end, know that you are to blame - but in the very best of ways.

All I ask now is that, whatever the cost - despite the fear, you don't give up on me here.

-RK

spiral

Downward buckle, spin, and arch. Falling head over heals and back againg. Sinking into utter darkness of questions -- questions you don't want to try and answer back to anymore.

There's no escape, that's the story that you're writing now. Maybe it's not so bad -- but it seems to be. The darkness seems to have no end, the questions no purpose, the empty spaces between you and them -- endless. The chasm too wide to cross now, you sit down on the dirt and drop your head to the ground. You're giving up. That's fair enough. But what will it mean tomororw?

Refusing to answer, pretending the spring is here, wondering if the winter will ever be over...

So winter starts when the leaves have finished changing brown and dying, you say. And winter comes when the trees are all dormant and dead and the world looks like there's no life left in it. And the biting cold makes everything feel so much worse than it really should. It comes when death is on the verge of going on forever - taking over life altogether; that's when winter begins. And it looks so much worse than it really is...

Winter's not the real death. Autumn is the death. Winter is the funeral. Winter mourns what autumn destroyed, covering it in a casket of soft white. Laying all the little flowers and leaves to rest under a frozen time-capsule. The animals lie down to sleep, the trees sap freezes - stops flowly. The world becomes so still it almost forgets to move - almost forgets that there is still life - almost forgets to live, forgets that it has to. But winter always comes before fall can destroy entirely.

Spring reminds the seasons, reminds the world that winter triumphed once again over fall - over autumn. Spring with its green leaves and flowers and new baby animals littering the world reminds the soul that winter saved the world at just the right moment - keeping it safe until the cold, dead hand of fall passed over and the world was once again free.

So you see? We've had it wrong for so long. Winter is not a killer. Fall, autumn is the killer - the destroyer, painting lovely pictures for our eyes to mask over death. Creating a kaleidescope of images so that our souls are dulled to the destruction all around us. But winter is never fooled. Winter always comes at just the right instant - to save our worlds from utter ruin.

Once again, winter has come. Frozen, cold, and almost unbearable - it has come to preserve the life that fall almost destroyed. Winter sometimes allows a few shoots of grass - a few signs of a California winter - but then the soft casket lid comes back closed on nature and reminds the world that it is still in mourning, still in rest. Now winter rages on, preserving all the life it can under its cold, shivering hands and its blue, bony fingers.

Strange how winter so quietly hides the most life from our eyes of all the seaons combined. Spring openly lavishes life to the eyes. Summer puts its life to work, plowing and growing and producing. Fall is the knife in the heart that slowly, more like a disease - eats away at the heart of creation, staying all the life that it can. Then winter - the quiet calm, the innocent blamed for all this death - comes and covers over all the life of the world in a thin tapestry. Winter - the most secretive and most silent. It does not boast it's work - it does not brag its safe protection of the world year after year. It's a simple caretaker. It does not claim any ownership to the work it does.

Winter, unlike Spring, simply is about life. It need not show it to anyone. Winter is the ultimate life-force in nature. If only we - the fall leaves and dry, sapless branches - would know who our winter is and that when it comes -- we need it.

-RK

A word to my blog

I'd be talking right now if I could. I'd be talking about what sort of day I was having. I'd tell you that I was smiling and/or frowning. I'd tell you why my eyes were bright - and why I'd been crying. I'd tell you that everything was messed up and how everything was just right. I'd talk about the past and the future and the days that I feel good, and the days that I don't. In fact, I'd tell you and the world everything.

But you know why I don't. You know why I can't. You know why I certainly never will.

Instead, we'll talk about the weather - and I'll tell you about my calls to China and Japan on the weekends. I'll tell you who I talk to - but not always what was said. I'll paint you a picture of the parks that I sit in, but I won't tell you where they is. Could be New York or London or Los Angeles - but I won't say which. We'll even look at pictures of my mailbox, without talking about the sort of mail I get in it.

Later, maybe I'll tell you all about my favorite movies. You can even get a list of my CDs and my DVDs and MP3s, if you just ask me. Because if you had a list of the Weezer CD that I play more often than the Blink-182 CD, and the Lord of the Rings DVD that's on more often than the Treasure Planet DVD, then you'd totally have my number. And if you read everything I ever wrote, bound it all into a book, and wrote a commentary on it - you'd never have to wonder if you knew me. Because it's that simple - just that easy to know about me. To know about anyone.

*sigh* I'm sure that if you asked me, I'd tell you that you already know. And if you said you did, I'd tell you that you were wrong. And I bet if you wrote a story about it, I'd think it was pretty close. But, if you wrote a biography, I'd tell you to take out chapters 1-20. But even if you did that, you still wouldn't really be anywhere close to what I'm getting at.

Because let's face it. People aren't just the CDs they say their listening to or the DVDs they say that watch all the time or the books they say they read everyday or the TV shows they put on as background noise. They aren't a "Currently I am..." section on a blog. They aren't what they write in silly, mostly inane posts on the internet. They aren't even what they chat about to over half the people on their "buddy lists".

Because people aren't electrical pulses in a computer. They aren't files you can read and then just store later. They aren't what they like or where they are or what sorts of email they get. They aren't just extensions of the technology they submit to. All that's editted material. All that's read over by some internal editor that changes reality into creativity. All that's not exactly real.

Most of them - all of them are more than that. Living, breathing, thinking, feeling, and expressing beings. They can't be known purely through the things they express or the way they express them. Sarcasm, honesty, sincerity, disrespect are all just parts of the things that you can't only read on a page. To know someone, you have to know what is behind the page. You have to know the hand that holds the pen that writes. Otherwise, you know a persona - a narrator of life, without ever really knowing the life itself. And you can't just stop there.

You can't love a narrator. You can't love a pen that inks a life. You can't love the page that shows the markings of what a person is willing to share with a world that will always be skeptical. You can never know the writer by only knowing the writing. Likewise, you cannot love the writer by simply loving the writing. That's readership - that's love of literature, if you want to go so far as that. That's - at best - being a bibliophile, not a human in a relationship. That's just reading. Not knowing.

-RK

Random tidbits mostly

First, let's take an inventory.
-------
Creativity: -20%
Innovativity: -30.5%
Productivity: 99.9%
-------
And with an inventory like that: you get things like this -->

A thought: If you have herpes, maybe you shouldn't be having sex.

It's wonderful. They come up with these things like, 'I thought I was being careful - really safe.' And after all the faces of particularly normal and beautiful women they say a phrase like Over 70% of people who get herpes got it while their partner was showing no signs or symptoms.

Note that the bold sections of that sentence are faded into and out of the frame, making it really dramatic and emphatic.

Can we think about this for like two seconds - because I promise you that's all it would take to realize. Hmm. I have herpes. I should totally keep sleeping around Congratulations. You're a frickin' genius. =0|

Up next? Soap operas: watching really horrible actors recite even worse lines either in bed or in some cheese-ball "dining room" setting. Oh and don't ever forget the "garden" shots. Those are utterly priceless, littered with the obviously plastic plants and some blue sheet as a backdrop.

Oh yes - and the dream scenes. Because you would totally have a dream in a foggy garden. All the time.

Always.

*sigh* Dear heavens, what is this world coming to.

-RK

Pendulum

The more we talk, the worse it gets.

The further down any one road I go - the darker the sky becomes, until the point where I can't see - can't feel - can't be anymore...

Just like yesterday, like the past years, like a lifetime - playing over and over again on a movie reel. You make the same choices, travel the same footprints, end up at the same places.

If you failed before, you'll fail again. If you succeeded then, you'll succeed now. If you threw in the towel, gave up on the machine, didn't make any more goes at it or try any more tests on it - you'll only do the same thing the second time around. Failure isn't based on any rate other than the rate at which you will always fail. Success isn't gauged by money or power or goodness - only at the rate of which you were created to succeed.

So if you had enough faith back then- you will this time too. And if you always had enought strength - then you do. And if you always stumbled and fell at the very last moment - you always will.

Times don't actually change. From year to year, the same seasons come. The same trees turn the same colors and bloom the same flowers. Animals beget the same animals, and people the same people. The world is a pendulum - swinging back and forth because the same people make the same mistakes at the same times, and so the pendulum must swing.

The same wrongs are brought upon the same people. The same sins of the same fathers - from generation to generation to generation. Man can get no better because he cannot escape the pendulum, the lull of time, the repetition of his own pathetic existence. He cannot learn from his mistakes. He cannot know them until they are already made.

But life, and time, and history goes on anyway. Repeating itself all the same. We all do the same things, make the same mistakes, and hear the same words from different voices - all the same. We hold the same conversations with the same people at the exact same times, only with different faces in different locations around the world. And we run from the things we're most afraid of - only to find them all in the next place we are with the next people we meet.

And the worst part is either we never learn or, even if we do, we can never change.

-RK

the other side of the coin...

Again - song lyrics. I realize most of you don't read them - in fact, I rarely do myself. But these are relevant to something some of you understand, others of you don't. But that's okay. Read them anyway - they're too true.
-------
Sometimes I get the feeling
that I won't be on this planet for very long.
I really like it here;
I'm quite attached to it.
I hope I'm wrong.

All I really wanna say
is you're the reason I wanna stay.
I loved you before I met you,
and I met you just in time
'cause there was nothing left.

I sat here on my suitcase
in our empty new apartment
until the sun went down.
Then I walked back down the stairs
with all my bags and drove away.
You must be freaking out.

All I know is I've gotta be
where my heart says I oughta be.
It often makes no sense.
In fact, I never understand these things I feel

Don't change your plans for me;
I won't move to LA.
The leaves are falling back east -
that's where I'm gonna stay.

Yu have made me smile again.
I fact, I might be sore from it;
It's been a while.
I know we've been together many times before.
I'll see you on the other side,
but don't change your plans for me;
I won't move to LA.
The leaves are falling back east -
that's where I'm going to stay.

All I really wanna say
is you're the reason I wanna stay,
but destiny is calling and won't hold.
And when my time is up I'm outta here

all I know is I've gotta be
where my heart says I oughta be.
It often makes no sense.
In fact, I never understand these things I feel.

I love you, goodbye
I love you, goodbye...
-------

-RK

Heard this on KHAY

Thought people ought to hear this one from me. I know its song lyrics - but it's relevant. You'll see - just read it.
-------
Boy, you sure look good there
standing in the doorway, in the sunset light.
Maybe I read you wrong thinking you could be my Mr. right.
I was putting my heart and soul on the line -
said you needed some time,
just a little more time to make up your mind.
Well it’s been long enough.
Time is up.

Bye bye love, I’ll catch you later.
Got a lead foot down on my accelerator,
and the rearview mirror torn off
cause I ain’t never looking back - and that’s a fact.
I’ve tried all I can imagine;
I’ve begged and pleaded in true lover’s fashion.
I’ve got pride, I’m taking it for a ride.
Bye bye my baby, bye bye.

Don’t think all those tears
are gonna hold me here like they’ve done before.
You’ll find what’s left of us in a cloud of dust on highway 4.
Baby, what did you expect me to do,
just sit around and wait on you?
Well I’m through watching you just skate around the truth.
And I know it sounds trite, I’ve seen the light.

Bye bye love, I’ll catch you later.
Got a lead foot down on my accelerator,
and the rearview mirror torn off
cause I ain’t never looking back - and that’s a fact.
I’ve tried all I can imagine;
I’ve begged and pleaded in true lover’s fashion.
I’ve got pride, I’m taking it for a ride.
Bye bye my baby, bye bye.

I’ve lost the game I guess.
I did my best to win the part.
Now I’m leaving here with what’s left of my heart.
Bye bye my baby, bye bye.
-------
And I realize it's country - but you can handle it, can't you? Anyway, that made sense. At least - it should have.

-RK

you, me, and us on life

You made a mistake. It was my fault. I shouldn't have bothered - but something in me wanted to... Yeah, that was always our downfall, wasn't it?

So, he didn't need to say that. You didn't want to hear that. I wish I had known that.

Then we got angry - what else were we supposed to do? Oh, excuse me - we're both supposed to feel - supposed to feel guilty for living life again, supposed to think that we're the screwed up ones. I'm sorry - must have missed that memo.

So, you couldn't keep it together long enough to pretend being fine. Well, okay. You are entitled to your words, to your thoughts, and your ways. Doesn't mean we have to check up on you anymore. You're a grown-up. You can deal with that now.

I'm sorry - that was cynical of me. *sigh* You know - I get like that sometimes... I'd apologize, but you'd just say I don't have to. You'd tell me it was all going to be right in the end. You'd tell me why it looks like it does from here. You'd be right, of course.

Shouting, then laughing hysterically, only to remember we should be angry - and shouting - and bitter - and unhappy. But we're not right now. Just look what you have done to me...oh, us.

But then, something always does go wrong, doesn't it. 'I know, I know. That's life' - you think to yourself and roll your eyes. '*sigh* So I shouldn't feel that way over...well...that.' But oh you know you do. It's a shame, you get like that - someone would say to you. You know it. But, you still claim, it's of no consequence.

Things like I'm not made for that and Well I wasn't supposed to be this way and I'm just done with that keep cropping up. You know you're lying to yourself - know you're only pretending you like the part you're playing. But you don't - you aren't happy. The script isn't even written well...

'But', you claim, 'that's what things like that do. I knew it would -- one day. It's just...well, when it did, I didn't expect it to feel like...well...this.'

It always did. Always does. Always will. And you know, now, that what you've said - that's just the easy way out.

'I realize that,' you claim, 'but what else is there to do? The high road's too high and the hard road's too hard and the narrow path's too narrow. What else can I do?'

-RK

cynical-ism

One of those --ism's that can't be avoided. Now, listen.
-------
Excuse me, miss? You - the one there on the telephone. The one whose trying to get through to China or Japan. Yeah, that conversation isn't going anywhere. Can you please just hang up. I'm sick of having to hear you think. Thanks.

Oh, and you - the one there with the knife. Dear heavens, put that damned thing down! Don't you know what happens when you pick those things up? People could get seriously hurt - especially the little children over there in the corner. C'mon man, grow some common sense. Put that thing back in the drawer and don't think about getting it out again. Seriously.

Wait sir, you there with the roses - we need to have some words. You don't really get it, don't understand - do you? You think it's a game, just like everyone else does. You think all you have to do is look good and be kind for a little while, don't you? You're thinking it'll all be sunshine and daisies - aren't you? Well sir, not only are you confused and dillusional - but you are wrong too. Please, get a reality check on your way out of the building.

And as for the rest of you, stop staring. Just get your purses and backpacks and valuables - and go on your way. There's nothing to watch now. The demoralization of the young is over and the mourning for the old and dead hasn't come yet. So really, don't stop and wait here. Everything will be fine on this side of the room. Just get your train tickets and get on your trains and go to wherever you are going to go. No need to pause or miss your train or even think that you could do something over there. You couldn't.

In short, you're done, the whole lot of you. Go ahead and kick yourself because you've ruined things for yourself. Or don't. Either way you just have to realize that you don't have any say here. You have no rights. Anything you say can - no, will be used against you. You don't have any liberties or any way out this time. You're screwed, going to be locked away in the sad little dungeon of your own existene. Sorry - but have a nice day anyway.

-RK