a man walks by
suit flared at the waist
with heels clicking
and watch ticking louder
than mine
he walks on high
short hair pasted to head
I know he has a brain
made of plan
and though he won’t admit it yet
loves another man
he passed me by
he passed me by
Copyright L.M. 2008. (written May 26th, 2008.).
In high school, I came up with a shade of blue.
It was beautiful — a combination of sky blue, light mauve, baby blue.
Every day as I’d walk through the hallways, I’d look up through the windows as I passed to see if today was a Beautiful Blue day, and, if it was, it was a good day. It became difficult in winter to keep my spirits up, as the cold depresses me sometimes, but if there was a patch where I saw Beautiful Blue skies, it would lift me up and give me strength.
I love nature like others love religion. In fact, to a certain degree, I equate the two. This is really very personal but why not…… in my egotistical mind, I would see the colour showing up as a sign, a spiritual offering of a hand to help me stand again — or, if I was already standing, would help lift me to happiness — or, if I was already happy, would help lift me to elation. Natural beauty is something that never replicates; each instance really is a moment in time to treasure. You will never have that exact opportunity again to feel its presence, its power, your part in it all. All you can hope for, if you shun that moment, is another chance. It is likely for this reason that I have become a fervent advocate of spontaneity; part of carpe diem requires the ability to forgo plans and live for the moment as it presents itself. Part of beauty is unpredictability.
Beautiful Blue might look different to others. As much as I describe it, I will never know if anyone else sees the exact shade I do — not that I believe myself to be the only one capable, but when you take into account differences of perception, differences of colour receptor cones in the eyes, differences perhaps of data transmission between cones and the brain?…… but this Beautiful Blue, to me, is nothing less than hope itself, embodied in a shade of pure beauty.
A couple years after I’d begun this tradition of sky-searching at school and elsewhere, I was listening to the radio and heard the DJ mention a new song was going to be played by an artist whose songs I knew and liked. The artist: Holly McNarland. The title: Beautiful Blue. This initially stunned me. Then, my senses came around and I realized: to others, they were simply two words strung together, and could be used to describe a multitude of things…… I suppose. This is what she has to say about her song:
“The big song [on the cd], ‘Beautiful Blue,’ came a week before the
last time we went into the studio,” she says. “That was shortly
after September 11. It’s not about that, but the whole vibe, the
whole doomsday thing, was pretty apparent, and I was just
hanging out with my son. In the middle of all of this tragedy,
I would wake up and have this perfect little angel by my side.”¹
It’s a beautiful song; I loved it immediately, and not simply for the connection I had with it. One day I’d like to perform it live — in a way, to realize another dream of mine, as I’ve already recently been given the opportunity to realize one of my life dreams of being part of a band. I don’t want to suggest it, as it’s not particularly in the style we perform, but I figure that the opportunity will somehow present itself at some point in my life — just like the song did initially — if it is meant to be interpreted by my (in comparison) highly unqualified voice. This is not a case for carpe diem, after all; this is a chance to see just where my Beautiful Blue will guide me next.
So, my dear readers, after I expose my vulnerable nature to all your mysteriously faceless souls, I ask you: what is your Beautiful Blue?
If you would like to comment on this, you need to click on the title to load the post anew, where you will be given the option to leave a comment if you so desire (and I hope you do!).
say it ain’t so
break the silence
incomprehensible noise
years of pain
tell me something is wrong
but wise be the brain
and cruel
ironically heartless
justification of harmony
of evils and religion
perilous wait
a tumour of mindset
numbing an easiness
and making it senseless
getting there never works
I’m sent around
and around
a cycle of waiting:
of idiocy and ridicule,
incompetence and ignorance
shivers rise and fall
but rise more often now
and I wonder
where the clock will sit
when I finally find out
just what is wrong with me
Copyright L.M. 2006.
It occurs to me that not a lot of people pull all-nighters. I find it, well, good I guess. They’re sometimes enjoyable…… but they have their moments. Like, tonight, I stayed up (well I’m still up), and was working (the not-so-fun kind of all-nighters), but I luckily caught up on my junk so that makes me feel good. However, I had a few fun experiences with my body hating me. Here are a couple things that may happen to you if you pull an all-nighter, and you shouldn’t be surprised if they do:
I hope you’ve learned your lesson, because I sure haven’t…… Umm, what am I talking about again? I should go. I think I have an e-mail to write. It’s for my cat.
Clio44's Blog 