Bird As Fish

I wrote something long and poetic on this topic, when I realized that I have no fucking clue. So I deleted it. Here's something more real. And I'm not even sure I'm asking the right questions...

Is it even real?

Is it just a biological sidenote?

Why do people spend so much time searching for it?

I know that, whether for right or for wrong, I'm pretty sure it doesn't exist, and I'm pretty sure that it's simply a biological phenomenon.

Man oh man. I'm cleaning up my room to move and finding all these notes that my ex-girlfriend wrote to me. "I love you so dearly, Liz. Sleep sweet, my beautiful one" and "Thank you for your never ending caring and love and tenderness. You mean the world to me". Most hauntingly of all, "I'm sorry. I love you. Please forgive me." I don't ever remember getting any of these notes, but they're definitely upsetting. I wish I'd just thrown them away at the time. This is awful. I feel awful. Shit.

All the spaces here now remind me
Of everything I've lost

I'm lost.

My girlfriend moved out today. She gave me a hug as she left with furniture, and all the space she other wise occupied. She left with all the love that we used to fill up the space. She left without a backwards glance, with just a single tear in her eye. She left with space, which is now a black hole. I'm afraid to stand in the space she left behind. God, I suppose it's really over now. She took the bed we fucked in, and that I'm glad of. I haven't been able to sleep in it since... I'll get a new one, and then hopefully I'll be able to sleep in the bedroom that I've shut up ever since she left.

What I want most of all is to know what's left of my heart. I'm crying so loudly, I'm sure my downstairs neighbor can hear. But I don't care. She left all this pain behind - these memories of such sweet times as I've never had in my entire life. Did she ever mean it? I've been crying for two hours. I can't seem to stop. I have all these pictures of when we first moved in together with such high hopes, with such love in our hearts. And now, that's all I'm left with - sweet pictures and empty spaces, and not even a glance behind to say good bye.

Now I am formless and empty, darkness is over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God is hovering over the waters.

Why don't you get up out of this old place?
It just holds you down
Memories of yesterday just cloud your face
They just hold you down.

Would you rather watch the world go by?
The wild, wild world, baby.
Would you rather watch the whole wild world go by?
This wild, wild world, baby.

Darling, I know the world stopped for just a little while
But we're all waiting for you
You've got your whole life to live, baby.
And we're all waiting for you.

Even though this life is shitty
Even though it throws me for a loop
Every year or two

I got strawberries in my orange juice instead of some icecubes
I got a little apartment to call my own
I got candles all around
I got little grey kitty
And I still got my soul.

I still got the melody that lives within my soul
I still got the music that pervades me,
The harmony that surrounds me,
The rhythm that controls me,
The beauty I see in everything.


I still got my laugh
Still got my smile
Still got the melody within my soul.

And I got strawberries in my orange juice.
Still got the goodness that fills me up.

What compares with being in love?
Nothing.

But that is not the point.

Love only lasts for a little while, and when it's gone, I am left with precious little but aching,
Beautiful memories and that love in my heart that I had once.
That love that you see in pictures
Kissing her, tasting her mouth
So enraptured
Whole heart
Gone.

Gone
Lost in love
Lost in that feeling
The two becoming one body
Two warm bodies curling up together
So many kisses I lost count of the number of times I mapped your lips.

I feel so innocent when I look back on myself before I fell in love.
What were those days before my heart was awakened?
What are these days now, after betrayal, after love is gone?
What can I do with that love in my heart when my lover is gone?
I haven't kissed her in years it seem like.
It's still there. It's alive. It's breathing.
Good or bad,
This love is still in my heart.
It won't go away. I don't want it to.
This love is my friend and my companion.

It's not the love of a lover, it's my love.
It's my heart, beating for me.
Beautiful and aching.

Oh how I love thee heart
Though you've opened me up, I've been made alive.
Though you've taken my innocence, I've been made wise.



We may be breaking up, but my love is not broken
In my broken heart the throb of love remains.
And I think I will carry it forever.
Now I know how sweet life can be.

Labels: love breaking up kisses

It's a mid October night.
I'm in my new place, and it feels great not to be badgered, not to feel like I have to hide. To enjoy coming home. My room is full of plants - two weeks ago, I started 50 new ones! Eeee! This is something that I've always wanted to do - and they are all flowers! My curtains are blue and green tie dye. I have little feather butterflies hanging up on them. I have the blue cowboy hat that I got in C-- hanging above my window, as well as some tourmaline and turquoise rocks in a sachet. My walls are a lovely shade of tan, and I have a beautiful double bed with a white comforter, striped with blue, green, tan, and crimson stripes, and cream sheets, with four pillows - two cream, a dark blue, and a green. On my walls, I have beautiful pictures of meadows and flowers, and trees and puffins. I love my room. I really, really love it. I'm loving living there. Plus I'm free.
I have two roommates - Phila and Doyle. Phila is very friendly, and outgoing. Doyle is shy and retiring. In fact, most days I feel like I only have one roommate. Doyle rarely comes out of his room. We also have a cat named Lena. Lena is a cat full of ATTITUDE. What Lena wants, Lena gets. When Lena doesn't get what she wants, she pees on Phila's bed.

Everything is getting cold - it's trying to tell me that winter is coming. Brr.

She gazes over water here
As dusk in sky appears so clear
And falls down over forest pond
She is here; day is gone.

The sky is still a little lit
With the sun that here now sits
Under trees but still in sky
It is falling. By and by,

The girl she moves, quiet, still
As o'er the raven flies so shrill
She pays no mind but still keeps on
Looking in the forest pond.

Then quietly, when the moon's come up
She gathers skirts and stands straight up
From bare back, 'neath long hair
Something starts to grow from there.

Pale but shining in the moon
Wings appearing from the gloom
They dance a little - fairy spite
To mock the darkness, coming night.

She spreads her wings and flies away
Across the water and starts to play
With sisters as they skip away,
Together keep the night at bay.

Midnight comes and long is gone
Darkest night soon greets the dawn
As beside the forest pond
Unwing'd fairy then walks on

To husband and a waiting child
Who know not where she's gone the while,
Who've never seen her fairy wings
And know not of her kinsmen kings.

In sight of shore, these ships they meet
Two mountains on the choppy sea.
Here they bide 'til break of day
When whips shall crack, then all away!

O hear ye now - the cannons shot,
The blackest barrels searing hot.
They shall await the coming day
When they all shall back away.

And travel home to waiting wives
And shall await their dullards' lives
Of mutton eaten, horses rid,
The stronger beating cowards hid.

But for now, they heroes all
And list'ning to the dying call
The ships they sink, yes, one and all
To never more the other pall.


The wives they stand, awaiting day.
When the men come home, they pray
Theirs has not perished far a-sea
Where waiting hungry teeth may be.

Nothing ever does compare
To salt winds blowing through your hair
As waiting comes on waiting times
As waiting almost never blinds

But only ever longs the times
Of waiting. It is never kind
To women as they wait for men
Who never will come home again.


Wind it blows across my hair
As waiting here, I sit and stare
And only waiting for my man
Who I will never see again.

A woman with her baby cries
To see this sight of no more lies.
Her husband's washed up on the beach
With her fingers she does reach

To touch his rotten, eaten flesh
That only she had known the best.
Weeks she waited, now the end
Her man has come home again.


The magistrates with taller hats
Express regrets for being last
To leave this earth, a mortal ball
(We know they don't mean it all).

Ad now that all the prayers are said
Let us all retire to bed
To problems about cargo lost
And replacing it at cost.

Let the widows cry alone
And pray that their pit'ous moans
As they cry and groan and weep
Don't wake us too much from our sleep.

Please.

Emptiness inside.
Blank.
Vacant.


After too much ink
From too many stories,
jet black
I bleached them off



Storyless,
Soulless.
Blank.

When I hit the ground again,
I hear your voice. It's telling me
it's time to go. Let's keep on going on.

But bitterness it takes a toll as
Former bruises never go away,
They just always stay.

I'm too tired, can't you see
That I can't raise my head?
I don't mind eating dirt so I'll
just lay here all alone.

You keep on, keep on trampling on.
I just can't do it any more.
Your driving whip can't prod me into action.
So I'll just lay here all alone as you keep trampling on.

I've just been running too long with you
But you never stop
and I'm a fool if I think
I can.

Inevitability of it all that I should pretend
my god-like qualities could defend
me from impending exhaustion.

But quickly they pass away , these
seeming virtues of Herculean strength and
I hit the ground again.

Cruel, cruel days
of breathless torture
of deathly marathons

Do you remember the simple GLANCE behind?
For that encompasses my whole being.

The fear, welling, heart-pounding,
until it holds all focus,
Everything is sinister
Especially the cigarette.

ACT NORMAL

BLACK HAIR

BLACK BEARD

I do remember what he looked like and no one else ever understood
Why I looked behind.
(why I held my head low)
Try to act as if everything were normal.
Practice makes perfect
Until fear is all you can feel.

rage of cool inhibitions
that bids my blood to burn
Cold.
And slows its territory path
that ever more frustrate
and return to the place of small demise
That blocks great desires

Like an elephant lead
of nothing more than memories
of pain
of things gone bad.

We hate it.
But we hate ourselves still the more
when the leash holds us back
For we are not more than simple animals, bestial

We are no more than merely.

Oh you Angel,
Guilded wings and flowing robes
Perfect in your dazzling whiteness
Faultless, flawless, stainless, pure.

Oh you Angel, could be horrid
Beating wings and choking robes
Blinding in your deathly whiteness,
Tow'ring, lofty, barren pale.

Oh you Angel, chant your hymn now
Crystal voice and perfect time
Tongue which speaks with words like honey
Sweetly, gently, pleasant, kind.

Oh you Angel, why so silent?
Blaring hush and tight-lipped whine
Clamour given to the deaf ones,
Leaves us hearing ones behind.

Me as a little girl, just seven.
Doesn't know.
She doesn't know.
Is happy to live life.
Loves summer.
doesn't think that women's shelters are that bad.
believes that life will get better.
Believes that the whole universe will be good to her.
Believes in love.
Looks about her with hope and grace.
she's willing to put up with a little.

Later.

remembers feeling so frightened.
dad could come for her in the night.
Need to have a plan in case he comes in the windows.
Need to have a phone in her room in case he comes up the stairs.
he could come at any time.
this is when her she remembers feeling like she does now for the first time.
after this was when she didn't feel safe.
she starts feeling older than she is. serious.
she starts looking out for mom and baby brothers.
The little mother.

Later.

So broken.
A little older, but much older.
Now she's sixteen years old.
She doesn't live with her mom any more
She lives with godparents in a tense, tense day to day
just get me by
please i want to end it all
please please please
please this is the first time i thought about killing myself
violence inside should be the violence outside
losing hope
Frightened of him, his shadow covers everything in her.
Reliving the second time they fled
Reliving the second time he chased them.
fuck - the first time i thought it or wrote it.
crying, writing, but cannot get over it.
don't have the foundation, don't have the good memories to lean back on
no help
needed the help.
alone in this room with lace on the door frame
no door
and a turtle that i couldn't see because his water was so dirty.

Later.

I was twenty-one.
No home, just a room that I slept in.
not all bad, but feel like i have to hide.
cannot be myself.
suicide - why can't i do it?
there's a knife downstairs,
linoleum red from my wrist.
School keeps me from myself.
I throw myself into it.
Sit with in chemistry.
I think I have a friend.
Few more friends.
I have friends.
I have beautiful, wonderful friends.
Go out with friends.
I have friends with whom I can be myself.

Exploring myself.
I am twenty four.
The past still plagues me
The past, I realize still plagues me.
Maybe it is time to put it out of reach.
Or rather, put it in reach.
Talking to my roommate about it.
felt all the tears well up inside of me
felt all of everything, as many times as I've been over it.
As many times as I've thought of it.
It's time to feel it, think about it, talk about it
no shame to Amélie
she said that she's be there for as long as i needed
she said
she said
she said the beautiful thing said
she's like a rock
she said don't worry
she said with so much seriousness that
I cannot but take her seriously
no laughing matter with her.
Still feel afraid, you know.
Still feel afraid of you never know what.
Still feel afraid of him
Still feel afraid of the beautiful thing
fish out of water with her
bird out of water with her
take me out
come with me in, please come with me into the thing that i fear the most and into our taking back this fucking night, yeah
Yeah.

The lyrics:
Txoria Txori

Hegoak ebaki banizkio
Neria izango zen
Ez zuen aldegingo
Bainan, honela
Ez zen gehiago txoria izango
Eta nik…txoria nuen maite

The Bird Which is a Bird

If I had cut her wings
She would have been mine
She would not have gone
But, then
She would not have been a bird anymore
And for me…it’s the bird which I loved

Every year on Father's Day, I get sad. I imagine that I'm not the only one. It seems like a poor thing to remind all the people without fathers, or people whose fathers have died that they aren't has happy as the rest of the world. I wonder if more people hate Father's Day than actually love it. What about all the people who do have fathers, but whose fathers suck, or are gone all the time, or whose fathers hate them? Does anybody actually have a good father? I'd really like to meet one. I'm sorry, I know I'm jaded, and I know that fathers should just be ordinary men who love their kids, and I'm sure that there are plenty of good fathers out there, but I don't think that I know any. Except for Amelie's dad. He talks to his kids several times a week for hours. Even though he can't be with them. That seems like a good dad thing to do.

Sometimes you can make things sound more perfect than they actually are when you write about them, but really, I did have a perfect day! And I can't figure out whether writing about it would cheapen it, but I want to remember it! Maybe if I write out a list of the things that happened, but don't say anything else...
- We woke up late (this is good because we got lots of sleep!)
- We went to a garage sale and she lent me $0.25 to get a pretty blue beaded necklace. I tried on a gorilla mask, but the day wasn't right for it. She rejected the hightop red suede shoes outright.
- We took a bus to downtown to get a guided tour of some really cool science labs (she's a biochemist) and they had the coolest library ever!! It was massive!
- We found a spot leading out onto a river and we waded into it. We kissed. We saw some Rana catesbeiana tadpoles (they were huge) and a crayfish.
- She braided my hair even though it was windy.
- We found a park with a wicked amount of uncut grass. We took off our shoes and walked barefoot. We sat under a tree in the very centre. It was incredibly beautiful. And even more beautiful, because the grass was so high it was like the city wasn't even around us.
- She put flowers in my hair of the following varieties: Viccia cracca, Lotus corniculatus, Allaria petiolata. The V. cracca is a viney plant with purple flowers. It didn't wilt for the longest time, and looked incredibly beautiful. I have pictures as proof.
- We walked downtown and bought a large mango bubble tea.
- I skived off dinner.
- We got our bikes and had dinner with her folks.
- There was watermelon!! (which was great because the whole day had been really hot)
- I had a shower, and felt so refreshed.
- She practiced her violin, while I lay in bed and read a great book.
- We got some yogurt and apples to eat in bed.
- I kissed her.
- We went to sleep.

Everything about her is touch and sensation. Even in daylight, I want to touch her face and kiss her neck and clasp her hands in mine and not let her go. I want to touch her shoulder and memorize its curves to remember it when she's not with me. I touch her hair so often so that maybe every time she'll know how much I care about her.

It's too simple to say that the most perfect moment ever was when she lay down in the long grass and closed her eyes, and the sun poured through the tree above us, showering her in mottled light. I wasn't thinking anything except that everything in the universe fell into place at that moment. How much I've forgotten since I've moved here about simplicity, and beauty. And about how much I love the brush of long grass on my skin. And how liberating taking off my shoes and walking barefoot can be. And how it's okay not to be doing anything at the moment.

It seems too simple, really. These are such human feelings, falling in love. Too simple to not sound cliche. I'm trying to describe how personal and real this is to me, and how beautiful. It feels like everyone else has already done this, so the words sound cheap and used. But you have to believe that I mean every word. She is beautiful and alluring and brings out the best in me.

She could have been anywhere.
Anywhere in the whole dark world for all I could tell at that moment.
She could have been anywhere in the whole damn bed.

She could have been anywhere,
And yet, I knew she was right beside me.
Just close enough that I could touch her if I moved,
But not so close that I could reach out to her.
Just far enough away.
Yet I knew she was beside me because I could feel her breathing.
And that breath landed on my neck,
Like a midnight velvet, clothing my face in warmth.

She could have been anywhere,
Her lips breathing gently from beneath a shadow.
All the things I didn't say.
She was right beside me.
She was just far enough away.

It took me so long to love you...
I was so afraid to love you because if I loved you, then I'd lose you.
Ever since I first started loving you, I've felt you slipping out of my grasp.
I feel like I'm losing you now and I'm trying to hold you ever closer.
I'm so sorry.

I'm sorry that I've let you down.

I'm so sorry for what I've become.

I'm not perfect, and this is definitely the worst side of me.
Please put a bit of faith in me.
I love you.

Remember to never split an infinitive.

The passive voice should never be used.

Do not put statements in the negative form.

Verbs have to agree with their subjects.

Proofread carefully to see if you words out.
If you reread your work, you can find on rereading a great deal of repetition can be avoided by rereading and editing.

A writer must not shift your point of view.

And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.

(Remember, too, a preposition is a terrible word to end a sentence with.)

Don't overuse exclamation marks!!

Place pronouns as close as possible, especially in long sentences, as of 10 or more words, to their antecedents.

Writing carefully,dangling participles must be avoided.

If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is.

Take the bull by the hand and avoid mixing metaphors.

Avoid trendy locutions that sound flaky.

Everyone should be careful to use a singular pronoun with singular nouns in their writing.

Always pick on the correct idiom.

The adverb always follows the verb.

Last but not least, avoid cliches like the plague; seek viable alternatives.

Labels: Grammar

The other day I was reading Men are from Mars with Rick and we came across the last Chapter of the book. It asked if when you are having a good time, in a really loving relationship, if you would suddenly get really angry about something or really upset or really sad. It said that it was not really your partners fault, but rather memories coming up from the past. I thought that that seemed likely, and that that is always happening to me. It said that to solve the problem you should write a letter to work through your pain. My only problem is that when I write a letter, it does not help. It's like I bring up emotions then that can't be denied and I actually feel worse. The emotions then go swirling around inside of me, and I fall apart. I don't really understand why this is. I usually find that the only way that I can do anything about this is to "solve" whatever the problem was. The thing about that though is that if the problem occurred in the past, there is nothing that I can do about it. And if it happens in the present, I'm usually powerless to do anything about it.
For example, take this person that I live with. He makes me feel intensely nervous because he doesn't talk at all. In fact, most of the time he sits around and sulks about work and doesn't pay attention to anyone else around him. That really really annoys me. I wish that he would just talk to other people. I wish that he would just talk to me. I don't know why it bothers me so much, but I think it might be that I feel really insecure around him because I am living with him, and he could suddenly decide that he did not want me to live with him and chuck me out. And he won't talk to me. He insists on being consistently morose. Maybe I should be grateful, but I'm not and it really bothers me. And yet, I can't do anything about it. I can't tell him because even his own wife won't tell him. He gets angry really easily and I'm afraid that he will chuck me out. So you know what I do? I leave the house until they've gone to bed every night. Rick is sad because I'm never home. I'm sad because I'm tired of being out, but I dont' know what else to do. Both the husband and the wife make me really upset. The husband because he won't talk and the wife because she talks an awful lot. I mean, I like the fact that she talks, but she always makes me feel really guilty about things, like not following her advice, or not doing stupid things like making sure that my curtains fall straight. It really really annoys me. It makes me feel nervous because I never know when she is going to strike with something that I should have done, so I never feel at ease with either of them. Dammit, I want my life to be solved! I never know if these are my problems or theirs. My friend Amelia says its a little bit of both. But I wish that I could solve my end of the problem so that it wouldn't bother me any more...
Oh well, I am trying. I've got both of them to help me decorate the Christmas tree this year, and I've decided to throw a wee party. With hot apple cider with cinnamon and cloves and I'm going to get them each an ornament as a token of my love. See, I am trying to have a relationship with them. It's just hard...

Wow, I look back on these old blogs, and really really think. I think that I was in a lot of pain back then, and I really didn't have a lot going for me.

I think my whole life experience had been something bad, and so that's all that I had. Sometimes I still get sad. But mostly, I don't.
I'm in university now! I'm working my butt off! After tallying it up, I've been at school for 86 hours this week already and I've still got more to do, so I'll probably be back there tomorrow too. It's really hard and tiring, but really satisfying too. I'm getting really bad grades, but they are getting better and I'm learning how to write scientifically. I've written 150 pages this semester already! All full of love and science. So, I'm in second year in environmental science. I've moved in with my aunt and uncle, and been living with them for two and half years. It's pretty stressful sometimes. They like things a certain way, and I like things another way, so we sometimes clash, but still. It's not bad all of the time. I have my own room. I'm still going out with whats-his-name. We just saw each other a couple of days ago, and we set up our Christmas tree, which was really fun! This is our third Christmas together and we have a bunch of Christmas ornaments:
1. Runky the frog (he's a beany baby on a key chain)
2. Ganesh the elephant (he's a little blue elephant with a sea shell hanging down from his belly...yeah now that I think of it, it's pretty random)
3. The golden dish scrubbers of a) Love b) Happiness c) Friends and Family d) Joy e) Kisses and f) Mischeif (he always goes at the bottom of the tree)
4. Runky's family - Ike, Mike, Tyke, Bike, Crinkle, Crackle, Fingle, Fackle, Flobber, Floober, Moobert, and Bob
5. The Christmas cage in case any of the frogs misbehave, especially with the golden dish scrubber of mischeif
6. Our initials which spell: JERM
7. Pickles the penguin farmer in the rain
8. The Really Big Golden Christmas Star that is 1/4 the size of the tree itself
9. The Smaller Silver Star of Napkin Holdery
10. 19 Blue Balls of Cheap Factory Matte Spray
11. and the newest addition to our Christmas clan - Ichy the Hedgehog of the Recycled Pinecone
We also figured out based on the surface area of a cone, we have 0.29 lights per square inch. Being that our tree is 3 feet tall and 1 foot wide, how many lights do we have on our tree?
I'm looking at it now - it's really beautiful.
Well, I'm going to sleep. I've got some serious stem assignment to work on tomorrow.
Best
MJ.

By MJ Jackson and ND Jackson
The muting cries of silent lives, they speak
And scream upon the windy canyon rock.
They tumble down to where the dried-up creek
It passes round the red steep wall.
They mock me where I stand, these moving lips of fire.
Their voices chase me, burning deeply down;
The air is full of gasoline desire,
It's pregnant with the coals on lips that frown.
They chatter-cackle, vultures in my ears,
Insanity who makes my hands go slack,
A brand that marks upon my face.
It sears the same as forty lashes on my back.
The silent screams of subway prophets speak,
Their empty outlooks, oh, my God, so bleak.