ned
I turned 30 and it was bloody lonely.
The kind of lonely where plans fall through for no spoken reason, partners leave town, and lost feelings sink deep in a city my mail doesn’t get delivered to.
To twist the sober dagger a little, it’s bloody beautiful here in Vancouver and I must leave soon to return to a place that is not my place, a place where I do not feel I belong.
2014 is the year of the horse. The year that we jump on up and gallop through our dreams and see them carry forward with such speed and velocity that our only move is to grip the mane of that wild beast tighter and squeeze our legs like a well loved lover only knows… Well, this is what I’m taking it to believe anyways, and I believe in consciously projecting these things.
Lonely bothers me, but it exists and is always whispering sweet nothings and no matter what I battle it with, it’s not going to go away forever. I’ve never been one to drown this feeling with self medication, aside from meditation. I’m also not one to push these thoughts away and be passive droning away. I live for these moods, the sobering ones and the exciting ones, to explore them with utmost attention to detail in prose or some other form of expression. I like dwelling here for a spell. It helps remind me that there is never an easy road, even on the easy road. No matter what road I walk, my soles wear and my laces loosen.
Lonely comes from the desire to connect. To feel connection. It is hard to feel the sort of satisfaction I’m looking for in a connection when nobody looks you in the eye, when beautiful strangers are too cool to acknowledge that you’re there. I’m not exempt, in fact, I’m guilty.
How do I tell a stranger their cheek bones make my breath grow short or the way they hold their muffin makes me think of a prospector holding up a rare jewel under examination.
How do I make small talk when all I want is passion?
I attended C.R. Avery’s poetry jam session for a poetry festival here in Vancouver and he repeated a line in his poem Memo that has resonated with me since:
Inspiration is for amateurs, the rest of us just show up and get to work.
It’s a Chuck Thomas Close quote.
I’ve decided this is the feeling of GO time. This is the feeling of gripping tight on that horse and yelling faster.
…and it ain’t getting easier.