To Tell You.

I woke up today alarmed by the knowledge
That we may not have a whole lifetime
Or we may not even have a year
To wait to run into each other:

For that magical collision
- At the same time fated and accidental -
Where we'd arrive to the same place
Both ready and well
And to fit so perfectly together,
Unchecked by the past
And unafraid of the future.

So I wished that I could
Unabashedly and shamelessly find you.
Tell you,
I never hoped for a permanent forever.

Tell you,
How we may not have a whole lifetime
And we may not even have a year
To wait
To run into each other.

Tell you, I beat
Fate to the punch
And staged my own accident.
I arrived to you
Not ready and unwell and
To fit
So uncomfortably together with
You and burdened
By the past and
Terrified of
The future.

Wouldn't that still count?
Isn't that, in some way, better?

Track #3

I remember you from the days before I lived here. Now that we share the same neighborhood, and sometimes the same friends, I see a lot more of you. I am not sure it's vice versa.

Undefeated

There are some passages that I come back to and rediscover them as if I wrote them in some sort of trance; drunk and naive without realizing their value. Am I speaking of the future as I write, do I already know who I will be?

September 17. 2007
I can't help it. These feelings I have, for someone now, and for those I've had a chance to know. Each face lingers with the contrast of what they looked like before and what they look like afterwards; from the sweet to bitter, normal to great. Sometimes I see a face and I try to keep that image alive. The more I try to hold on to that face the more it changes. I can't help it. You'll change, they all change. I just want something great. But I can't make you great, just like I couldn't make them great. I can hold on for a while but eventually you will defeat me. The truth will lay me down. It will shine and I hope you shine brighter.

Sitting There on College with me

surrounded by the concrete and the trees growing out of grates in the ground and the passing strangers, he looked small in his grey winter coat; tired with the dark circles around his eyes and the creases in his face. Just below the waves of hair he kept pushing away from his eyes, I swear I saw the cracks in his heart.

I saw the boy that stood on his sixteenth-storey balcony, looking over the parking lot, and in his mind, played over the sequence of events that would follow if he hoisted himself over the ledge; staring in the face of nothingness.

I kissed him hard.

 I was sitting on the bus, feeling very overwhelmed.  I could not stop crying.  I got off the bus at my stop and a quite older woman got off at the same time.  She approached me and gave me a long hug.  As she let me go, she said "I don't know you but I love you".  It changed my life.

Knees Are Meant to Meet The Earth

You trip, you fall, you get up. You trip, you fall, you get up. You trip, you fall, you get up. Again, this time with more enthusiasm, more intensity.
Keep going. You’re doing fine, you’re doing a good job. Keep at it. Yeah, that’s just right, everything is just right.
The more you believe you’re fine, the more you really are. Now get back up, and do it all over again.
Trip, fall, and get up.
Again.

i was out of breath.
your voice was breathless.
i felt a little woozy after 3 beers and too much dinner.
how did you get my phone number?
i can't believe you called.
are you ok?
will i see you?

When my daughter was 4 years old, she made me a birthday present.  She wrapped it up and put it by my bed.  Every day for a month she would unwrap it and show it to me and say "Just put it out of your mind, Mum".  If only it were that easy.

Distracted

You are no longer here. What I see

of you, is shadow, deceit.

Your soul has gone away

where you will go tomorrow. 

Yet even this afternoon offers me

false hostages, vague smiles,

slow gestures,

an already distracted love.

But your intention of going

took you where you wanted,

far from here, where you are

saying to me:

"Here I am with you, look."

And you show me your absence.

Pedro Salinas 

from Seguro azar, 1929

*this

i can't keep doing this. i'm going to be ripped apart. there will be nothing left. and what will i be then? i can feel the end of my soul, and it is as sharp as the pain of knowing you can never love me. i will fall. i know it.

this must stop.

i just don't know how.

There you were

She turned around and there you were
Camera in hand looking at her
Through the lens you saw her soul
Her deep brown eyes her hair like coal
The distance apart seemed like a mile
The gap enclosing as she flashed you a smile
You dropped the camera down by your side
She saw your thoughts you could not hide
The moment lingered as you both stared
So you crossed the room as you were dared
Only inches away she felt alive
Your heart started racing into overdrive
Like a shock through the heart
Her touch, your touch, you could not be apart
You talked all night like you were both alone
No one interrupted you both sat like stone
The music stopped the lights came on
It was time to go, everyone was gone
You walked out into the cloudless blue
Step for step she followed you
It was there that you had to depart
Little did you both know it was only the start

- Violet

no sleep last night.

no sleep last night.
we walked down the hallway and into the elevator.
a strange but beautiful intimacy between us.
without a word, he leaned over the suitcases and kissed me.
a kiss that carried us down five floors.

i would do it all over again, if I could.

around the block one more time

I remember that first time I saw you, not knowing it was your band until it was your turn to play.  It was a small room, and we were sitting almost directly in front of you.  I felt like you being up on stage made it okay for me to stare and so I did.  Later that night we met, thanks to mutual friends and guest bedrooms.  After you left, I listened to you on repeat for months.

You came back to town recently and it was the same thing all over.

You're gone again, but I have you back on repeat.

it turns out the song was wrong

I'm not entirely sure what I thought it would accomplish.  why I did it.  It wasn't like me, I am not usually that bold, not usually that reckless.  

I thought about you, worried about you, hoped you found a way to be happy.  Why shouldn't you be happy?  I feel like there is this little string in my heart and, even if you don't know or more likely don't care, its connected to you.  (I still feel it - regardless of what has happened since).  I can't cut it.  I tried: first my hair, and then that ribbon on my wrist.  (A wish I never should have made in the first place).

I keep on thinking that I never should have listened to faulty logic.  Of course it didn't make a difference.  I blame advice.  I blame dancing, alcohol, and the way you held me so tightly (close).  And no matter how many times I tell myself that it didn't mean anything, that it was a bad decision, that it was unconsidered, stupid and wild, (I don't regret it) I don't regret it.

It only matters when he leaves.

and still...

'Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real' - Iris Murdoch

Damnit

I keep ending up here; this same room, though it has been many rooms over the years, it’s all the same. I climbed the highest mountains, I saw a war from start to finish, and I have survived many close calls with sharks and alligators only to come back to this room and realized I forgot something. I forgot to learn the lesson from this story, our story, her story; the time we shared, the time we lost when it was all over. I used to blame them, but maybe the problem is me, I keep doing this to myself, stop it.
I’m not bitter, I’m not mad, just frustrated. I tried everything, I feel like an evolving leap frog, each hump, each jump I learn how to be better at the game and yet I still stumble, fall, crack the end of my ankle on the ground, you put that water there so I’d slip. I should’ve listened to mother, girls are trouble. Girls are trouble.

Keep fallin'

I remember the exact moment I met you.  At the bowling alley of all places, giving weight to the old expression of being 'bowled over'.  I was.  In many ways I still am though our history together makes me struggle between loving and hating you.

I think what we got on our hands is a dead shark.

I could never figure out why you liked me, though I was glad you did.  I didn't think we had all that much in common besides our love of Woody Allen movies, but that was enough for a start.  You were an odd sort, a writer but not a poet so I could still relate to you.  You had quirky ways about you and a sly sense of humor I liked - always making me feel like we were in some secret club, sharing a joke that no one else could possibly understand.

After you had been to my place plenty of times, one day we ended up in your tiny apartment on the hill.  It was then that I spotted the photo of me on your refrigerator.  Or rather of her, your ex.  It all made sense then.  To you, I was her only close at hand.  After that I drew back from you, making up excuses, knowing it wasn't me you really wanted anyway.  I was only a stand-in.

Fairground Attraction

Our timing was always bad.  First, it was me.  Then it was you.  The third time I really thought it was for real.  Do you remember the night we kissed on the steps and made big plans?  I drove home listening to that song as loud as I could, singing happily, cheeks sore from smiling, excited for you, for us.

But it didn't take that time either.

Depth Charge

I must say this before I begin.

I must say that I might not be in the best state of mind, nor temperament, but I feel that if I were to say anything now it will be valid, and serve in relief, even if it is only for a moment.

If I were to ask you of one favor, it would be to call me a fool. I wanted to know, because inside I feel this way, and if someone were to tell me, then I won’t feel alone anymore.
I walked home just now; I endured ten, maybe fifteen minutes, taking each step down the stairs, each step on to the street, and then the rest of the 3,187ft home carefully taken so as not to shatter apart like a submarine that fell into the abyss. The deeper I go, the harder it is to ascend, as the pressure increases, I am questioning my integrity, my strength, my endurance, and my worth. My surface begins to crack, bubbles form in the shape of doubt as I continue to dive. I sometimes wonder if I am delusional as I continue, whether I am the only one that sees this faint light in the darkness. And with each foot, I am learning of how to live with myself, with all my rationality seeping through the cracks. By the end, I might not be recognizable; perhaps I will be a creature of the sea. I will swim with the dolphins, as they too came from the land once, as I forget of tree green, of earth brown, of concrete and marble, just water onto water. I think of the pain of water rushing into my lungs, but the relief of no longer holding my breath. I can stop fighting now. And once I am subdued, taken under the depths and washed anew, I will no longer be I to who I am today. Graced by the light, I will have no words, no words at all.
So can you call me a fool, and I’ll call this love.

my blog is a bloom

hello. you have arrived at invisible threads.
invisible threads is a blog, but i prefer to think of it as a web loom, or bloom.
(a loom is a machine or device for weaving thread or yarn into fabric).
this bloom will act as site where stories and utterances become threads that are woven and tangled together into a fabric.
invisible threads will represent not only my voice, but a collection, a composite.
a site of fusion, but also of unravel.

this bloom is a beginning...
an experiment.

the details:
i am currently working on my mfa thesis and in a state of research and experimentation.
invisible threads exists to collect stories and house language that will contribute to the work.

invisible threads seeks YOUR contributions.
please - add a thread.

how this will take form:
we can begin with stories. fact or fiction. anonymous or not.
stories should focus on the connection between two people.
I am particularly interested in the state of abandon and intoxication of initial encounter.
that state of reverie (and loss of control) that one falls into as they become enveloped in another person in love, lust or infatuation.

the bloom is fluid and experimental...and will take shape as words are added.

in advance i truly appreciate your contributions and respect the personal reveal that might be a part of this process. if i am able and if you wish, i will make every effort to acknowledge your contribution to the project.
merci.

love on tap

'the perishable nature of love is what gives love its profound importance in our lives. If it were endless, if it were on tap, love wouldn't hit us the way it does.' - jeffrey eugenides