So Let it be Written, So Let it be Done!

May 8, 2008

I’m Going to Do It. . .

Filed under: blogging,drama,kamakula,writing — kamakula @ 12:34 am
Tags: , , ,

What is that it you may ask? I’ve been frequenting this nightspot that has an open-mic night. In general, things like that tend to motivate me if I hang around long enough – I almost convinced myself to attempt some stand-up comedy before I left TLH. According to a friend of mine, it was a good thing that was never inflicted upon the world.

Perhaps at some point, I’d do the composition here. But for now, this feels more complete to me . . .

The lyrics to a song go “I know you think that i shouldn’t still love you or tell you that. But if I didn’t say it, well, I’d still have felt it, where’s the sense in that? I promise I’m not trying to make your life harder or return to where we were”.* Those are the first few lines of the song. I’d always liked it, never understanding the resonance it had with me, not knowing why it stayed on my playlist.

But after meeting you, I see why. Somehow, the words conveyed a meaning, a meaning of words before their time, echoing between the void of space and time, taking me to a place, not that I’d never been before, but I was destined to tread, to walk, a bit more jaded, not quite baring my soul as before, but yet, putting myself there, making myself vulnerable, exposing that part of me which in foolishness was unprotected.

Unlike Achilles, I was not dipped into the river of immortality by someone with a firm grip on my heart, instead it was the work of chronos, in the heat of my formation, my period of learning, growing, yearning, thinking that life was perfect, reasoned, wrapped up, and under my control, yes, I too was arrogant. However, unlike the ill-fated Achilles, when my weakness is revealed, it is not by accident, it is with a purpose.

Others cannot get close as long as there is a shield up, a force field in their way. Invisible yes, impenetrable, I’d like to think no. Like the cells that make up our body, it is semi-permiable membrane. Under the right conditions, some molecules can make their way through, gaining access to the very core. However, these barriers can also be lowered under conscious control. And so, that’s how you got close.

Your smile set the mood, eyes glittering like the reflection of fire in sapphires, the combination catching my attention, spiking my interest already aroused by the curvy of your torso, from bottom to top teasing the eye with the sensualness that your attire tried to hide, but could not
suppress. The dichotomy further drawing my attention, my smile, and so I respond, teasing you in conversation, wanting to hold your eyes on me, keep your voice tuned to me.

If our attraction sounded the first bell anouncing a weakening of my defenses, it was the verbal sparring that tired me. Your pedigree preceeds you, your intellect scintillating, yet we did not chat of technical matters, no need to focus on work or play, those pieces of the puzzle can come readily enough, yet even as I talk, elicit your laugh, your smile, the twisiting of your hair in your fingers, drawing my attention to reach over, an excuse to touch, to linger, to experience, I find I cannot read you.

Where others are an open book, you are closed. Despite our growing closeness, there is a void I cannot breach, a gap I cannot close. Others may well be foiled, but it is too late. I’m vulnerable before you, before your look, your touch, your smile, your laugh, your words, and there is one
thing I must know. The answering would just be throwing a single rope across the chasm. Dangerous it would be for me to attempt to cross on so tenuous a holding, but the prize is worth it.

Yet the timing is not right. Perhaps you don’t have a line to cast, or the ground is too loose on your side to secure it. Nevertheless, “I will go down with this ship. I won’t put my hands up and surrender. There will be no white flag above my door”.

Perhaps I may add a bit more, but I’ve always been a write once kind of guy unless forced to revise. Still, mayhap it deserves a bit more attention. Maybe Thursday evening, I’ll have more reason, more motivation, more experience to draw on, for which to add, to bring it to final completion.

In terms of technicality, I think I’ve given up on attempting to make thing rhyme. Here, I did that a bit, or at least I established a rhythm which can be easily seen in the writing or heard if I read it aloud. I’ve been told my face is pretty expressive. I know my voice can be, but I’ll be nervous reading this much of myself out to people, so I’m not sure how much of the meaning I’ll be able to communicate beyond the text.

I think that is what draws me to creative mediums. I feel that my skills in subcommunication are lacking. Yet this is the richness of life. Meaning beyond words. Meaning infused in the inflection of our voice, the raising of our eyebrows, the curl of our lip, genuflection of our hands.

I hope this experience, if it will be as transient as anything else has been in my life, will be one where I make some improvement, some measure of something that stays with me. That even when not active, is still there. Then like riding a bicycle, when I need to turn to the skill, in a moment of despair, a moment to connect, a moment to prove myself, it is there, reassuring and uplifting.

*The song is White Flag by Dido.


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