I had fallen asleep in my chair after a long, hard, day of doing homework. After a while of dozen off, I was suddenly awakened to the dying screams of Annie in the next room. I made a mad dash for the dining room, only to find her body on the floor, covered in large splotches of dark, red blood. What could this mean? Was there a killer nearby? Suddenly, I heard a mechanical click behind me. "Hands behind your head." I complied, then made a mad dash for the nearest object in sight, a long, metal pole. I turned around and swung it at my attacker. It hit him square in the side of the head. I didn't mean to kill him. I called the police, and the hospital. But I knew, in that awful moment, he was dead as soon as he hit the floor. Just like Annie.
The snow flakes fell like pom-poms. The people in the streets were cheering. The snowflakes covered the sidewalks like perpetual redemption, smoting every stain with specks of pure whiteness. The sinners in the streets were cheering. But you know those snowflakes. The snowflakes kept their distance from each other, as if they were surrounded by little rebellion bubbles, encapsulating every idiosyncratic ice sculpture that fluttered to the earth’s floor. And when they landed softly on the ground, the rebellion bubbles dissipated back into the heavens, or sank deeply into the earth. And where the snowflakes landed, that ‘s where they landed. The snowflake that landed on Lincoln street will never find itself on Clinton avenue. It is here now and that is the way it will have to be.
So I love reading, so much. Everyone knows I love reading, it's my thing. Well books are my thing actually. I love the smell, the feel and the look of them. I could spend hours in a book shop or library. I qyite literally want to inhale the contents of the book and move on to the next one. I want to read everything. I even get impatient whilst reading a book sometimes because I have so much more to read and seemingly so little time! Reading make me feel happy, it takes me away from life for a while and teaches me things I wuld never have learnt had I not engrossed myself in that book. There is a lot to be said for that. My 5 year old son is learning to read, he loves it too, he reads every day and enjoys it as much as I do. He too enjoys a bookshop, we have a second hand shop in our town and he always wants at least 2 books. I have read to him since he was born, I thought he didn't know at such a young age but I now believe he did. Read to your children, all the time, every day, even if it's the back of a crisp packet, read to them, they will learn so much from it and it will never be wasted.
That's the trouble with falling in love with a musician. Not the late nights, or the people that want to be with you, none of the things that you worried would bother me. It's the the fact that I can't listen to anything without thinking of you. Without wondering whether at some point you've sat and listened to this song too. Without thinking about the nights I've spent watching you sing your feelings to a room of strangers and then gone home together just to sit on the couch and listen to the songs that helped make us who we are. Wondering how one could be so private and the other could not. Standing in a dark room, watching you nervously throw all of your feelings out there for the world to feel with you. Wondering if any of it was meant just for me.
Why is everyone so afraid of blame? We avoid blame, and clammer for credit. We take the blame, and give the credit. We depricate and inflate. We're little balloon people. One day we're slipping through the grate, the next day we can't fit through the door. Depression is a nemesis, it's not a biochemical flaw. It's garbage you forgot to take out. It's a dentist appointment when you haven't seen a dentist in a decade. If we take the blame, eventually we can take the credit. If we credit the blame we'll give the credit. Fuck. That makes no sense. It's confusing. But it's not my fault. I have Confusion. It's not my fault. Confusion is an illness. It's genetic. My parents were confused, too. Both of them. I give them credit, though. They didn't blame me for their confusion. They gave me credit for blaming the disease. But, now, that makes no sense, either.