Love Lost @ MindSay

I'm back in the hotel enjoying a great Jon Stewart show - liberals arguing the war.  I lean to the realistic which on some points, like how fast a 'draw down' or withdrawal can occur, actually is NOT Stewart's view.

Though he did make a funny editorial comment I agree with that 9/11 can't be a Bush conspiracy for one reason : it worked.

But on a lighter note - I love my Your Place pub.  I don't know anyone well since I am a very irregular regular, but some of the characters I enjoy interacting (or not) with.  Tonite I met a guy, career army, on his way back to Iraq for the 4th time, in town from Ft. Drum, NY to meet with his ex, herself a two-time vet of Iraq, to celebrate together a late birthday for their December born son.  Interesting guy, a sniper, but not.  A couple of notches below, according to him.  He is the one called to hit physical targets, not personnel.  Suspicious vehicle at 500 yards? Done.  Suspicious item on a bridge strut? done.  He now drives fuel trucks ("I got tired of being on point") so we had some cool discussion of convoys, Haliburton, and Blackwater.  He was envious of the civilian pay until I told him how firms really worked, keeping that elusive tax free pay out of reach as a way of keeping contractors hooked for 'just a few more months'. 

Meanwhile a 30-ish Backstreet Boy wannabe ( gelled hair, turtleneck, with gold jewelry outside the sweater) kept playing music that proved Kurt Cobain did us a favor with that shotgun.  God!  Psycho chimps screaming into mikes while beating up bass guitars is not music (sorry Sean!).

Salvation at last.  A guy I have had a couple of brief conversations with over the years was there.  A

ZZ Top-esque guy.  50's, long gray hair (maybe a Jerry Garcia clone) sat annoyingly doing nothing while we were all subjected to this screaming crap.  Finally, he got up and approached the juke box.  A few minutes later Michael Jackson came on with some 80's era tune that you can't help but smile to.  I knew I had been saved.  The next hour or so I was treated to this guy's great choices - from R&B to blues to rock to fun pop to deep country (early Cash and Willis).  But the one song came on, and I realized I have an emotional problem.

There are some things that bring tears to my eyes and I have no control.  Marching band music.  The Star Spangled Banner;  Extreme Home Makeover;  Brian's Song; and this tune which as years go by, I think may surpass "Hotel California" as my favorite song in the world.  It can play on forever and I would never get bored.  I don't even know the lyrics so have no idea what the impact of the content should be.  I just know I hear this railroad rhythm backbeat, the mournful sound of the vocals, and I drift into neverland. 

I want to close my eyes, cry, and slip away.

So, WITH further ado which I just bored you with, my fave (or at least tied with 2 others - I'll have to tell you the other some other time), by the Counting Crows "Hey, Mrs. Potter".

Turn it up, sit back, close your eyes, and I DARE you to not be rocking back and forth in time and pounding the beat on the armrest within the first 20 seconds :

I just had to wait 7 minutes to post this so I could hear the song again :

"If You've Never Stared Off Into The Distance Then Your Life IS A SHAME!"

 

Well I woke up in mid afternoon cause that's when it all hurts the most

I dream I never know anyone at the party and I'm always the host

If dreams are like movies then memories are films about ghosts

You can never escape, you can only move south down the coast

Well I am an idiot walking a tightrope of fortune and fame

I am an acrobat swinging trapezes through circles of flame

If you've never stared off into the distance then your life is a shame

And though I'll never forget your face sometimes I can't remember my name

 

Hey, Mrs. Potter, don't cry Hey, Mrs. Potter, I know why

But, hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me

Well there's a piece of Maria in every song that I sing

And the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings

And there is always one last light to turn out and one last bell to ring

And the last one out of the circus has to lock up everything

Or the elephants will get out and forget to remember what you said

Oh and the ghosts of the tilt-o-whirl will linger inside of your head

Oh and the Ferris wheel junkies will spin there forever instead

When I see you, a blanket of stars covers me in my bed

 

Hey, Mrs. Potter, don't go, I said Hey, Mrs. Potter, I don't know,

but Hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me

Well all the blue light reflections that color my mind when I sleep

And the lovesick rejections that accompany the company I keep

All the razor perceptions that cut just a little too deep

Hey, I can bleed as well as anyone but I need someone to help me sleep

So I throw my hand into the air and it swims in the beams

It's just a brief interruption of the swirling dust sparkle jet stream

Well I know I don't know you and you're probably not what you seem

Aw, but I'd sure like to find out So why don't you climb down off that movie screen

 

Hey, Mrs. Potter, don't turn Hey, Mrs. Potter, I burn for you

Hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me

When the last king of Hollywood shatters his glass on the floor

And orders another Well, I wonder what he did that for

That's when I know that I have to get out cause I have been there before

So I gave up my seat at the bar and I head for the door.

Yeah. We drove out to the desert just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars

We stand up in the Palace, like it's the last of the great pioneer town bars

Aw, we shout out these songs against the clang of electric guitars

Well, you can see a million miles tonight But you can't get very far

Aw, you can see a million miles tonight But you can't get very far

Hey, Mrs. Potter, I won't touch and Hey, Mrs. Potter, it's not much

but Hey, Mrs. Potter, won't you talk to me ? . . . 

 

hmm, I just posted the lyrics as an edit - I've never seen them before, after noting those that I highlighted, maybe there's something to subliminal messages after all.

That's right everyone, I'm back and with two new poems.  I'm going to keep this back up as a poetry blog again, so please tell me what you think.

Shall sleep rest this troubled soul?

One of whom an angel shall not grace.

For she is far too great for the tangible to reach.

 

The night stays bitter

Hope, covered in frostbite,

Shall turn in ‘till the morn.

 

And from this cold night a new dawn shall soon arise.

Giving with it blissful reds, oranges and yellows.

But from it I shall not arise in cheer.

 

For an angel will stand before me

Close enough to see her beauty

But too far to reach

 

The want to touch is left drown’d

By the want for the angel

To be in her glory

 

And O!  How glorious it is.

That one may never reach.

And yet this one so determined

Will still fall far behind.

 

“The Angel”

On the ground

So cold and hard

Staring up at the sky

So warm and free.

 

Feeling the feathers

Broken in pieces

Laying around

Helpless, as can be seen.

 

The want to soar,

The want for the past

The need for the future

Has been crippled at the seams.

 

Standing up

Beginning to run

To gain the speed

Is the only way to regain what once was.

 

It is the first step

To going into the future

It is the first step

When one’s means has been erased

 

“Clipped Wings”

I know, I already have a poem called "Clipped Wings" but I may retitle this one in the future (or just have two of them to confuse the hell out of people hehe)

This week has seemed like it took a year to end, yet was not as productive as I needed it to be. Employee evaluations, discussions, numbers restricted to a bell curve and not performance. So much needed to be done, a lot actually was done but not enough. So another weekend spent in front of a square sliver of light pushing words around on the screen in an attempt to make them play nice with each other and with me. The crackberry on my nightstand angrily scolds me even at this hour like I am a wayward child hiding from my chores because I do not respond.

 

Random thought running:  Caveman takes a piece of charcoal and records a hunt for survival on the wall. Me, the sound of keys tapped on a wireless laptop, records scenes of my life,  bits of charcoal dispersed out into space. 

 

In some ways it has been a very good week.  My best friend invited me over for drinks and I got very pleasantly tipsy while drinking the two pitchers of margaritas with him. We had a very good talk about past lives and hope for future loves.  I want him to find happiness. I think he needs to look inside first before looking outside for a source of happiness, but it is his search and I, sadly, as much as I would like, cannot provide a destination.  By evening's end, bodies remembering, but friendship attained.  A wobbly circle drawn in charcoal on the wall, ends meeting finally back at the beginning of our journey. I love him and want him to have what he needs, wants, and deserves. For all his pain, he is fortunate in some ways. "Love in solid form" he has.  He is a good father to his son.

 

In the constant noise of my life, my son and my husband, downstairs loudly discussing the rearrangement of furniture. My financial windfall for 18 months of weekend and night work spent in one keystroke to order a lift chair for my husband. Measurements taken, diagrams drawn.  In the end it will be trial and error and scuff marks on the hardwood floor. Random thought: Amazing how large love in solid form becomes at 22 years of age.

 

Dear Heart seems pleased with the gift  I sent him.  Happiness; even though not the physical touch I crave, but electricity arcs.  In the blink of an eye, it spans the distance of  2 dozen years, several  states, and a lifetime, dancing across my fingertips.

 

 

How do you explain in any kind of logical way the attraction you feel for another person?  It is not logical that I feel this strongly about someone I have not seen or been in contact with for many, many years, yet I do and it scares and confuses me.

 

Growing up on the farm we had electric fences to safeguard certain areas from the intrusion of animals.  These were not like the electric fences you see depicted in movies such as Jurassic Park, huge and complex assemblies.  No, the electric fences I am talking about are single strand wire fences; the wire used is not even barbed wire.  They are deceiving to look at, plain and barely noticeable as you walk through the fields. If you don't know the location of the electric fence then you are in for a surprise when you are shocked. But once you recognize that the electric fence is there, you know when you are getting close to it.

 

As you approach, the air around you starts to hum with power, getting louder as you get closer to the fence; it is an actual sound, low and vibrating. You can feel the electric current dart just above your skin, waiting there for the contact between your skin and the wire.  And even though you know what will happen if you come in contact with the wire, there is this irresistible urge to get as close to the fence as you can.  And you do, over and over again, sometimes getting shocked, sometimes not, but always searching for that point just as the current arcs from metal to skin.

 

 A few months ago I did not recognize the sound as I approached, until I was shocked by its power to reach out and touch me.  After  more than 2 dozen years, almost hidden amongst the weeds that have overgrown my life, I came in contact with someone again that shocked and scared me so long ago.  Now the air vibrates around me as I approach to discover that point just as the current arcs.

Well this sucks. Back go the single life for me :-/

As they say, Better to have loved and lost than never loved at all".

On to bigger and better things. :)

~O~