l i f e
q is leaving
contributions
christopher@30seconds.org
I'm feeling alone these days. Behind the lense. I wonder why I do it. Any of it. Don't read me the wrong way it's been raining here again and rain on the edge of winter is unbearable. My friends are all busy, and don't have time to listen to me. Not that there are that many to listen...
So tonight I spout my self-loathing speach to myself. I even put on Bauhaus. What am I thinking? I do remember thinking once if I could always feel like I did the first time I heard "The Passion of Lovers" life would forever be grand and a pleasant form of depressing...ugh. And still I go on. Strolling through the depressing CD's looking for something in more pain than me. March of Violets, they never let me down. You'd think that someone like Tom would inspire me and we could wallow together, but Tom isn't for this kind of mood.
Somber.
Very definately alone.
Only these few evening hours. Come home from work. Quiet. Check email. None. Check messages. None. Why do I have these services? Look at CD's...all the same. Outside. Rain. Feel sorry for myself, skip dinner, and reap the benefits of gin on an empty stomach.
"Who killed Mr. Moonlight..."
Okay, enough, right? Climb behind the lense for another round. Pick up the guitar and play for someone, anyone. Does it really matter who? I think it does. Beyond just anyone that will listen. It matters more than...more than the whole of my world balled up and thrown in the corner. More than my whole world printed on a piece of Ilford RC Multigrade IV.
Do I share to a deaf world? Am I deaf? ARE YOU THERE WORLD!?! Come and pick me up, drive me around for awhile, and let me off at the corner when we're through. No that won't do. I want to stay with you. To never leave. To grow. But who really reads this stuff and knows me? It's not important that I'm back here, but just that somebody is. A human being. And in this world we all invest so much time in trying to believe in people we end up forgetting individuals and begin to beleive in principals. The principles they represent. Did I just write that? Do I beleive it? I haven't had too much to drink. I must on some level buy into it. But damn if it doesn't sound as dumb, clumsy and lonely as I feel. I guess loneliness is a drug as potent as any other.
The other night the phone did ring. It was an old friend from college. We live isolated lives, but we did our time together in the kitchen and at school. He was there for the cardinal. I see him once, twice a year. We look in each others eyes more than we speak and somehow that makes sense. We exchange more in fractions of a second than I will with some people in a lifetime. He's finally leaving town, and he won't be coming back.
He said we must have a drink before he leaves. Okay I said. Call me...
And that will be it. An exchanged gaze over a beer or bottle of wine and poof! No more Q. And we will think we've done our friendship justice. Maybe all the justice we can do it, eh? What do you guys think? How do you say goodbye to someone when they get the feeling sometimes they just need to call you and they are always right? How do you cut ties like that? Can you, or will we always be attached somehow?
I'm all questions I know. Questions going nowhere.
I never mentioned Q before because he is a fixture. Like a book on the shelf, a landmark, protected. Something you never see or touch or really feel, but you're never far from it either. A crutch for your own ideals. When that leaves, how can you only say, call me...
The blinking red light. The envelope in the corner. A piece of paper sticking out of the brass mailbox downstairs.
Sometimes I'd have be better off not writing at all...
goodnight 3.18.98
