It is both a blessing and a curse.

Nov 19

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. And yet I find myself shivering in the bone splintering cold. This is it. This is all we get. For me, life has always been a theatrical event even when I’ve wanted to be, or have been, in the darkest of audience shadows. A play between loving and living, bathed in a non-stop light show fueled by self imposed aspirations for some magical balance. It’s a nonstop light show because the balance doesn’t exist. It never did and it never will – not the way we have crafted it in our pictures and our minds. And all the while, this ridiculously loud light beams down on a 24/7 circus, begging the performance go on…go on.

After so long, and it isn’t very long…the stench of burning plastic and metal starts to permeate the space we’ve chosen to host our amazing spectacle of a show. It starts to stink, the air gets a little hazy, and the crowd stops buying tickets. Sometimes, that crowd which feels so vast is really just an audience of one. It’s an audience of one and the plastic is burning off of your lights. You can’t put makeup or electrical tape on this one.

It’s you. It’s yourself. Playing out these parts as love and living compete for the spotlight while refusing to compromise…refusing to even take intermissions. And everything goes black.

You sit there in a hazy confusion, wondering why or how on earth things seem to have slammed so hard and so fast into the wall. How you let the lights burn through themselves, when it feels like just yesterday you were designing the scaffolding. And for a moment, just after your face hits the rigid brick wall that is IMPERFECTION, you remember just how important it is to bring your own light to the darkness.

This is it. You feel like this is it. But you know the show must go on, and you’ll live to see another day and you’ll do it all over again. “Maybe tomorrow.”

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Can’t shake this feeling now.

Jul 02

I know that we are upside down.

But hearts keep beating, chests keep rising as breath keeps flowing and minds keep racing. We can call it biology or universal coincidence, the acts of an age-old scientific process simply playing out it’s scenes until known or unknown forces call for curtain close. We can chalk this up to the repetition that characterizes insanity, we can question every thought and every word while wasting precious minutes of what in reality is, the grand finale – because the truth is, there is only one take in this film.

Or we maybe we can just stop hearing what other people think about us and our lives, and listen to what they need in theirs. The grand illusion of making the world a better place through self discovery and patent leather polished, self-serving acts is exhausting. And quite frankly, a total waste of what could be one heck of a grand finale.

I’m going to keep it moving, be classy and graceful.

Find the joy, and let it burn through the pain.

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As fate would have it, I’m exploding like a roman candle.

Apr 30

And I guess I’ll just keep going to the river to pray.
I want my sparkle back.
I’m somebody. I am somebody. I am some body.
Some body made two more bodies.
Bright little humans, we are. Consuming one another, living out bright little American dreams.
When the history books are written, we will be just shooting across the sky. I want it to count.

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I am a glow stick.

Jan 12

I wish I could confidently ink the ever popular phrase, “regret nothing” in French of course, somewhere across this fleshy canvas that blankets my soul. I’ve been thinking a lot about this concept sporadically over the past few weeks, maybe years. It would be such a lovely phrase to call my own, to say to myself or others without actually speaking a word.

But I have regrets. I am guilty, and for every occasional day I proclaim “I have no regrets!”, there are two more days that follow, suffocating beneath the opposite sentiment. Is it even realistic or fair to strive to be that person who can say they regret nothing? Somewhere along my 27 year lifeline this ideal was sewn into the thread of my subconscious and placed upon a pedestal. The concept that – sure, we all make mistakes, but one day when you uncover just the right amount of confidence, you’ll feel a glorifying sense of acceptance wash over you and realize that everything happened for a reason. That nothing was wrong, everything was worth it, and regret is just a ghost of Christmas past.

Regrets are like scars, which I also bear – some more proudly than others. They refine, define, and remind. Frederick Nietzsche said that in order to give birth to a shining star, there must be chaos in one’s soul. That concept makes a little more sense, I think. So tonight’s question is: is the chaos better served embraced, mastered, or allowed to run wild and free until death do us part?

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