Friday, July 16, 2010

Ashes of Youth: Chapter 7.1

The second thing I remember from my first day of Kindergarten was playing on a jungle gym and running full blast, I clotheslined myself on a steel bar.

My first day of high-school, I don’t think I knew anyone ‘cept a few who went to Carr School.

I was walking from my first period class to my second and I was late. I saw some guy walking to his class and I said, “That’s a cool band on your shirt.” I just wanted to see how he’d react. I gradually made gauging prime reactions the quest of my next two years.

The guy was a rare person whose reaction matched their character at such an age. We ended up being in a cooking class together, becoming friends. I learned that his name was Carter. It’s an odd thing to meet someone with a sense of honor that isn’t stunted or nonexistent. There was no shade to anything that was ever said between us and you could actually listen to his words instead of tones.

I made it to the first period, late, and met a few more of my new classmates. There were a few people I already knew, we bunched together near the center of the room over the same reasons that drew early man to seek fire.

We gradually formed bonds over plays we wrote together and ideas dawning on us that fanned flames of this newfound freedom. Growing up right before each others eyes, except for that first pixie-dusted semester, in that time we gave impressions by which our growth could be gauged.

It’s not all the pretty horses, not at all. It’s not that the pasture was green either, but it wasn’t just the pretty horses. Not by a long shot.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Ashes of Youth: Chapter 6.3

We weren't kids after we laid waste to each other. We never grew up either, we remained so unsettled and convinced ourselves otherwise. On the day we finished with each other I listened to "Three Little Birds" for hours feeling like something different had been broken.

Kids no more, no havens for forgiveness. After thinking about this I realized what they really meant by “If you love something let it go”

It’s not just a line for a picture show
Oh no, oh no.
If you really love something let it go.

I might have been the right one, the wrong one.
I might have been all or none,
Or one, or ten.
There are always a million, billion things that I could have been.

The next time I hear you sing Rocky Mountain Way
I’ll sing along under my breath, or out loud
From the valleys to the clouds.
My god I loved you and nothing's left to say.

Children do this to one another? Your children maybe? What are they but humans? And oh, do humans do the worst things to one another? Or can that be denied by the same self-serving convenience with which I singed my forest of emotions?