no alarms and no surprises please

2003-12-17, 11:28 p.m.

the first step to this is to know its created, writen with full understanding of its trivial nature. without the true pain or trial, any bit of courage quoted in the face of 'hearbreak' or loneliness, is bravado. that is the first thing you have to understand, it is a play on words, a group of intentional rhymes, but i know we do not really suffer.

the second part is innevitable, anything i write about feelings, that is fictional. true, the words may approach my actual burning sensations and yearnings, but like man on the moon was based on andy's life, funhouse mirrors play with light and figure to make a whole new angle. that is unavoidable, it is beautiful though; our emotions are sacred, meant to translate properly for one person, that's all. it is beautiful and, some say lonely, they must not know what alone really is.

the third thing is, this writing is a ctalalyst, a chunk of flint, your chemicals could burn if i wrote the right sentence (that is true for any person who writes any words, anyone). ripe with expectation, waiting for the acceptance letter, a reader wants to respond, not just relate. maybe i could feel the cold air outside is swirling like a hurricane around my neck, i do though, and i reach for another blanket.

maybe i could scatter every bit of my being on the table, like bills and graded papers, spreading out into the cement and filling the jagged cracks. wrap myself up and be given away for christmas, be traded for coffee pots and knive sets. people around know me better. my dad told me that the old tinsel he put on the tree as a kid was lead. he said you could roll it into a ball that could kill someone, and the way those strings felt, seperate then whole, spherical at last, must be the way i operate. without real breaks, without evidence of how to break me apart, how to spread pieces of me like tinsel on a tree.

it is the operation of all people, to be unlike each other so we don't go insane from monotony.