Monday, March 2, 2009

the boomerang effect

I don't know why I keep coming back here...
why I write every night
I've been thinking about it all night
Even told myself that I wouldn't do it... wouldn't come here
I'd write something else
A story
A poem
An epic novel about the 1918 revolution in Russia

But then I come back here
Just like when I smell that certain smell and it makes me think of someone or something
Just like when I read an old poem and it reminds me of a time passed
It triggers something in me and I just move with it

My dance
My rythmn

I remember once, at least 16 years ago, having a political conversation with a few friends of mine.  Me, a die hard liberal since birth and them two right winged republicans.  One of them commented that I felt too much, I thought "with my heart."
I was only 17 at best and I was mad because I didn't look at the whole picture, but they were right, I tend to think with my heart.  I feel before I use the logical side of my brain to say - "you're being stupid"

We're all stupid at any given moment

I've spent half the night sitting in my son's room because guess who decided he can only sleep if he's on his stomach?  
He's fine
But I worry
Kinda goes with the whole think with your heart thing...
Or parent thing - but I think the parent thing just makes us ALL think emotionally before logically...

So I keep coming back here - like a destination in a dream, a place your mind brings you too when you're so out of wack that you need familiarity just to make it through the night
When I was crying every time I woke up, those where the places I went to in my dreams...
There's this town.  My life always plays out there.  It's on a body of water, I could swear it's the Ocean, I want to say it's someplace in New England - I don't know.  I think I assume that because I spent some time out that way as a kid.
I assume it was a town that I felt connected to and my subconscious brings me there when I don't know my ass from my elbow... which is too often any more.

But my latest point of origin - my new life's starting point seems to be writing things out in the middle of the night when the rest of the world is sleeping so peacefully in my head...

9 months of pregnancy
1 very long winter
and all I can do is try to take moments like these, moments when I'm just tired and frustrated and irritated and hope that I don't finally compel myself to just get in the car and go
Because it's like anything else
No matter where you go, you're still there, and you carry your life with you in your house, the city, the state, the world
I know now that I will never leave C-Town
And there is nothing wrong with that, because to be honest, most of the people I know who left have been back longer than they were ever gone
and the ones that didn't come back, well there was a reason for that too

And while I love my sea side fishing town
My dream respite that was created so very long ago's just a dream

It was all just a dream

And the problem with dreams
you tend to wake up from them...

But for now, I'm going to let that moment between sleep and awake pull me in tight
and in a few minutes, when I go close my eyes, I can only hope that I'll be safe and warm and sitting on a veranda watching the tide roll in

good night 

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