i am not interested in spelling anything out or defining a fucking thing.
the meaning i make is my own. the meaning you make is your own. if the meaning you make comes from the meaning i make then our meanings are siblings. sometimes they will love each other. sometimes they will pull each other's hair. sometimes they will grow to become sworn enemies. the cycle is the cycle and as i proceed i see that reason fails. reason fails but the effort toward it is noble, as is the effort toward passion.
these are observations.
the year is winding down.
today on the train i started reading my diary from a year ago. it is absolutely amazing and glaring how different i am today than i was a year ago. a parent burned to ash will do that to you.
so much has changed. so much has remained the same. so much needs to take root and so much needs to be rooted out.
you have no idea how badly i want to caress the side of your face. my cold hand aches to move gently against your warm cheek.
"cold hands, warm heart" becca reminds me.
4 comments:
It sounds as though you have changed enormously, Angela, much as have I changed, and yet, as you say somethings stay the same. At least they give that appearance. The truth is that everything changes.
As for the meaning of things, I'm with you here. It sounds to me as though you hate footnotes. I hate them too but it helps to acknowledge the ideas and work of others as long as we don't have to kowtow and deny our own voices.
elisabeth, yes i agree with you about the necessity of footnotes. i don't hate them. i enjoy the lineage of art very much, of discerning one's own "family" line in that regard. to extend the metaphor- i would never deny one of my siblings.
lately i've felt the pressure to explain myself. most likely there is no such pressure. or it isn't nearly as foreboding as it sometimes seems. and it is nothing academic or artistic, it is a personal pressure. the holidays are probably responsible. the personal pressures to explain one's self and life. i no longer care to make such explanations and i no longer care to place myself under certain definitions.
the strictures must fall away.
maybe i've circled back around to the need to rebell.
Good for you, Angela. I should have realised you were on about self explanations closer to home. It took until I was in my mid thirties that I began to rebel against my mother. Better late than never.
thank you, elisabeth! i try to tell myself "better late than never" on a regular basis. i'm thankful to hear someone else say it. the rebellion is necessary because, as you say, we must not deny our own voices. i feel like i've spent too much time denying my true voice, trying to summon up a voice that would gain approval, fearing what would happen if i didn't. why?
a week or so ago it occured to me that i probably have quite a bit of anger about this.
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