words and dreams…

A word is not unlike a dream, in the sense that you can find in both a very peculiar stance where sensibility and madness go hand in hand. But any attempt, by man or woman, to tread new roads to and from such ethereal places is often futile, simply because the journey to such underminded places is often one of tortuous self-discovery.

But to find a word buried deep within a dream, painfully estatic, forever marred by the memory of those living in the light, is not a chance encounter by itself. Per chance it died in an arrogant self-reliance an age ago, crying in the night as it slowly disappeared when there was nothing but a faint memory to remember it ever existed. Perhaps, just like me, it is now looking for a way out.

I am always absorbed by such encounters, slowly moving forward in a moment’s passing. It’s the coming of the night what keeps me so occupied, the moment when I feel the obligation and necessity to tell the dreams I have inside, not because they are my own to give, but because I feel them so completely, so intimately that not doing so would mean the end of my own erratic existance.

This is an oversimplification, and I know it. It would be impossible for me to painfully re-enact every single scene and to write down each and every word that was said. But that’s where sensibility comes in, when you can find your way around the sea of doubt that clogs the mind at the hour of the wolf.

There is something so simple and so beautiful about waking up at night.

Frank 10:24

tonight…

I wrote this some time ago, but lately I’ve been thinking about it more and more. I can’t seem to get Y out of my mind. No matter how hard I try, her eyes capture me every time.

‘Tonight’

2001-04-16 01:40

I want to write something extraordinary tonight. I want to rip open the canvas of this world and recreate it all with words and dreams that only a man of my stature can feel and understand. I want to feel time in the presence of my fears, I want it to render me lifeless and useless when the day breaks, just so that I can be endless in my heart and in my eyes, fading fast and falling through the mist which often covers my nightly dreams whenever I’m afraid to try.

I want to howl into this wind with all my heart, let the air in my lungs fill the space which covers the distance that exists between my callow, inexperienced hands, and the fading image of the man I almost was. I want to fall to the ground exhausted at the end of the day, knowing I have spent my last breath in the search of a truth which does not seem to know how much I need it.

I want to know that tonight I am important, that I matter to someone just because I am alive and because I feel so much so deeply. Thinking that perhaps, the effect of season’s past has awaken in me the desire to fly through the night with my arms stretched open, laughing in disguise as I feel life itself slowly, but steadily, coming back to me. Taking strides and learning from my mistakes as I ready myself to start once more.

If I could tell the world one thing tonight it would be that I’m ok, that I’ll never give up, and that I’ll never stop dreaming with these visionary eyes of mine.

Frank 10:10

black and white dreams…

I am well aware of two things.

First is that lately I have stopped writing with the frequency and eagerness that I used to have. More importantly though is the realization that this should not preclude me from keeping in touch with my own feelings.

So here I am.

I would imagine that the reasons for this (apparent) lack of communication go beyond a simple oneiric explanation. Still, I must admit that as of late, I can’t seem to stop thinking and remembering the countless moments and words that have become such an integral part of who I am.

Picture this. Imagine that.

They keep coming back to me like old black-and-white dreams. Just a couple of words that like drops of water falling into a stream, are the beginning of an entire ocean of stories, images and colors. It is then that I am filled with an admittedly ridiculous sense of immortality, and an overwhelming feeling of laughter and joy.

I feel like trying something new, like breaking out for a day or two. Here’s to you Joe Jackson…

Frank

peaceful eyes on me…

There’s this song by Faye Wong entitled ‘Eyes on Me’ that I love. What’s odd is that it originally appeared as part of ‘Final Fantasy 8′, which is, of all things, a video game.

I know, that’s certainly an odd place to find a song to fall in love with. I’ve actually never played the game myself but for some reason I downloaded a promotional video for it a couple of years ago, and in it the song was playing.

I guess more than anything I fell in love with the imagery of the video, which featured the main protagonists meeting at a dance ballroom, falling in love, going through all sorts of adventures together (remember, this is a video game after all), and eventually just when everything seems hopeless and lost… they end up together.

I like that idea.

I guess I would like to believe that my own diluted life can become the stuff of legends. Or, in this case, my own legend. That I can suddenly, without expecting it, find someone’s peaceful eyes on me. That she will look at me and realize that there is so much more than just this quiet and slightly awkward guy that no one ever sees.

kissing jessica stein

I imagine that ‘Kissing Jessica Stein’ is not a movie for everyone. It’s all about seemingly dysfunctional people yearning to be loved, understood and, more importantly, about people who desperately want to find themselves. No, scratch that, people who NEED to find themselves. I identify with that.

I know it sounds like a cop-out but trust me, it isn’t. I saw this movie yesterday and I was immediately reminded of two things: first is that independent cinema can be, at times, infinitely better and more rewarding than your average big studio extravaganza. But secondly I realize that unless you’ve been where Jessica has been, you’ll have a hard time believing that a woman with her looks and personality, can be so alone and confused.

See, being alone doesn’t mean that you’re hideously ugly, infinitely boring or socially incompetent; likewise, having a picture-perfect body and great personality doesn’t guarantee you a life filled with happiness and love. There’s something inherently intimate about a person’s own ability (or lack thereof) to believe in themselves, to trust in their own instincts and be bold when they need to be. It goes beyond whatever social pressure is being applied on the individual to perform, to adhere to social standards and go along with whatever it is that everyone is freaking expecting them to do.

Friends often tell me that they don’t understand why it is that I am alone, that I haven’t dated anyone in a long time. They reason that a guy like me, while not incredibly awesome and hot, shouldn’t have any problem at all meeting girls. But unless they see the world through my eyes, unless they plunge head-first into my hopes and dreams, my ever-growing confusion and angst, they won’t be able to understand what it is that makes me do the things I do.

Still, I’m not saying they are wrong and that I am right. In fact, and I’m not trying to be hyperbolic here, they may be right after all.

It’s all about believing in yourself. And if you can do that…

michael chabon

This is part of an email I wrote to Michael Chabon, Pulitzer Price winning author of ‘The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay’:

You come to me unannounced but not uninvited. During times of sorrow and self doubt, when the eagerness I feel inside to reach the limits of my own trodden body, seem to fill my mind with countless images of scantly-colored moments of ecstasy and joy.

There is no single instrument of contempt in the movement of your words, the soft and tender colors that often reflect the improbable light that shines upon your callow hands keeps taunting my mind into uncertainty. It leads me to believe that everything is possible.

I sit here, trying to no avail to find the words with which to express just how much your words mean to me.

Sometimes my life seems so convoluted, so dry and so broken. I go through my days convinced that for the most part I am invisible to those that are around me. I go through my days desperately trying to feel something else inside of me besides this inescapable sense of cynicism and tardiness of heart.

But whenever I want a moment of reflection, a moment of peace in which I can discover eternity, you are there, painting the moment with endless colors.

Thank you so much for your stories.

first post!

Woo hoo… first post! I rule…