I Guess This Is Goodbye?

Dearest Blog Buddies,
I'm moving to a new location: My New Blog
Yes, I know what you're thinking and I'm sorry...I had to.

See you 'round?


abs out.

A Moment To Relish

THE BIRD BOY
Written and Directed by Andrew Stam
Performing April 29 and 30, 2011

“I was impressed with the complexity and richness of the characters in this piece, and the honesty of the writing. The conflict was constantly palpable and I was consistently engaged in the characters' struggles. It's a piece I'd love to see on its feet.”

Colette Mazunik on The Bird Boy

"I have a list inside my head of all the best moments in life...

One—this is number one...

It might change. I can always change it...but right now this is perfect. I know this moment isn’t very special, or exciting, or crazy...but it’s real, you know? This is the first time I feel anything close to real. I’m not crying and I’m not laughing, but I’m here...with you. And you’re not lying to me or telling me I can’t do something or can’t wear something. I’m not Germ, or Little Dude, or Puppy. I’m just Jeremiah, and you’re just Evelyn. And you’re talking to me...like I’m a real boy."

Jeremiah from The Bird Boy

abs.

Chicagoness

I could die right now, Clem. I'm just...happy.
I've never felt that before. I'm just exactly where I want to be.

Para Usted, Mi Alma Gemela

Homeward Bound / Simon and Garfunkel

The Air We Breathe / Figurines
Grace Cathedral Hill / The Decemberists
Bridges and Balloons / Joanna Newsom
We Did It When We Were Young / The Gaslight Anthem
Keep Yourself Warm / Frightened Rabbit
The Cave / Mumford and Sons
International Small Arms Traffic Blues / The Mountain Goats
The Sound of Silence / Simon and Garfunkel
Skinny Love / Bon Iver
Mockingbird / Regina Spektor
What Have They Done to the Rain? / Malvina Reynolds
Bridges and Balloons / The Decemberists
Awake My Soul / Mumford and Sons
Ragged Wood / Fleet Foxes
The World's Gone Beautiful / Malvina Reynolds
If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out / Cat Stevens
We've Come a Long Way / Good Old War
Home / Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

Finally, forever and ever.

I'm here. I'm typing--typing in a radical passionate outrage of some kind. In the next few minutes I may say things I regret, but right now-this fraction of a moment-I feel as though the secrets of the world are bottled up inside of me. They're deep inside my core and any minute now they might disappear forever. If I don't expel them now, I may die. We might all die.

I cried. Yes, I cried today. I don't know what it was and I don't know if I will ever feel this way again. Perhaps it's the Luminous Sleep Spirit. He's angry that I've ignored his wishes for two consecutive nights and has come to claim my sanity. I'm merely saying it's a possibility. Anything is possible at this point...anything is possible.

I'm awake! Finally, forever and ever.

My mind is full. They say they can't contain anything more, the boxes are stacked to the ceiling. It keeps coming--boxes of academic bullshit about anti-Semitism and clusterfuck bags of Historical Revisionism theories and quandaries pertaining to sexually questionable Shakespearean characters. Thankfully, I've given up on my mind long ago. It will empty out and reorganize in time. It always does.

But my heart, err soul... Yes, the cliche and disgustingly empathetic vision of my spirit. Yes, that--it hurts. Have I been ignorant for so long?

I'm awake! Finally, forever and ever.

I can't articulate anything at this point. Everything is a mixy-matchy of words and metaphors and feelings and unanswerable questions. I can't spit them out individually. So either I puke them out all at once or say nothing. Screaming out and tearing up are the only ways I can communicate. All I know is that I'm awake...awake. I can no longer fuck around ignoring my innate responsibility.

Perhaps it's my recent theatrical purgation. Perhaps it's because I've reached the conclusion of my Sociology class. Perhaps it's the fact that Awake my Soul is playing on my stereo and the volume level is at 35. Perhaps Mr. Mumford and his sons are trying to tell me something. Perhaps it's that asshole of a God I refuse to acknowledge? Perhaps he's finally grabbing me by the bow-tie and shouting in my face, Wake up you fucker! Wake up and help!

I'm stuck in this kind of fucking strange fucktrap. Yes, a fucktrap. This fucktrap keeps me from making a change, but this fucktrap also keeps me safe. I'm surrounded by seven billion idiots who don't know left from right. I don't know up from down. I'm surrounded, yet I can't seem to find anybody. These idiots walk around searching for a sign, something that will never come. Then they die. I don't want to be an idiot. I don't want to die. I don't want to be alone...more than I already am.

We are all born and someday we'll all die. Most likely to some degree alone. What if our aloneness isn't a tragedy? What if our aloneness is what allows us to speak the truth without being afraid? What if our aloneness is what allows us to adventure - to experience the world as a dynamic presence - as a changeable interactive theory?

I want to be alone, but I'm afraid. Can I ostracized myself from Olympia? Can I leave the ignorant realm of the gods and bring others an equivalent sensation of happiness?

They are us. We are them.

Fuck.