The song I wrote a few nights ago, but with a prettier guitar part!
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feet slipping sideways
lorries parting on highways Honey, don't slip away. speed down the freeway as we're gaining some leeway Honey, don't make me be free. linch-pin rattling, tires straddling the double-yellow line we gobbled up time we could have spent testing the brakes Honey, don't let me slip away. squeezing my finger. eyes only linger on runaway lanes. broken panes litter the breakdown ahead Honey, don't slip me away. I.
My name is Maria. I was driving alone. My rental car broke down. The bus picked me up. I only came to use the phone. I need to tell my husband. We arrived. I started running. II. My name is alone. I was driving broke down. My rental car picked me up The bus arrived. I only came to use my husband. We broke my husband. I started to tell. III. I was Maria alone. My name started running. IV. My husband broke down. The bus broke down. Maria broke down. I picked me up. (c) mbscarpa 2014 This article speaks to an issue I struggle with in my own approach to life, relationships and the greater world.
http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/06/happily-ever-after/372573/ Sometimes I feel like I am SUPPOSED to be focusing on the negative. I walk through life with a lot of trust, and there are times when this is maybe not the best idea. I worry that I am perhaps endangering myself when trusting, and this worry often pressures me to focus on the negative, in an effort to avoid being naive. Sometimes I worry that my optimism points to some fundamental level of stupidity; that when I see the lovely things in the world, the shining parts of people, I somehow willfully ignore the harder parts, the uglier side of things. I worry that I am closing my eyes and inviting danger, heartbreak, and other unsavory things. But the tension between my organic inclination, and the way I try to force myself to view the world creates more problems than just being optimistic would have by itself. This article gives me hope (and shows the scientific data), that gratitude and seeing good, rather than making one vulnerable or inviting disaster actually CREATES MORE GOOD. ON A RELATED NOTE: I saw the movie Maleficent a couple weeks ago. I went not expecting much, but I really enjoyed it; there was a care taken in the storytelling, and it brought to light narratives that don't usually get air time There is a moment when Princess Aurora (Elle Fanning), confronts Maleficent (Angelina Jolie), the fairy who has cursed her. Maleficent is prepared for Aurora to be terrified. But she isn't. Instead, Aurora in intrigued, loving and trusting; she sees Maleficent as a benevolent force in her life. The fact is, both things are true; Maleficent has been a destructive force in her life, but she has also saved Aurora's life many times (her fairy guardians are entirely inept at raising a human, and Maleficent filled in the gaps in their skills). Aurora grew up feeling safe, and Maleficent's shadow and presents has positive associations for her. It does not occur to the princess to interact in any way but filled with love and wonder. The two develop a bond, to the slight reluctance of Maleficent. If Aurora had acted in response to either Maleficent's harsh appearance, or to a sense of obligation to fear her (whether felt or not), she could have invited violent confrontation rather than the friendship that ensues. It was affirming to see this story played out, in light of my own concerns about love, kindness and optimism. I only want to crumple you
to spring back larger than you've been before. "But what if you stay small?" I think. Breathing out, step back, I shrink. Do not a thing at all. (c) 2014 mbscarpa Imagine a journey. A cinematic long shot, like the end of Sound of Music, when they are plodding through the Alps. Or in Lord of the Rings, trekking to Mordor. The camera starts close on feet, the rock and dirt and leather boots, but it doesn’t stay there long. It zooms out: backs and bent heads. Then further still, and there is mountain ridge and sky. And the airplane does that thing where it swoops around, the New Zealand landscape enough to make you wish you expanded past the edges of the screen, past the edges of the edge of where-ever. The music swells and it is so undeniably epic and you are on a quest, a journey and this isn’t about you its something bigger you are part of something grander, the streams and the clouds and saving Middle Earth. There is some much that is larger than you, you imagine so much beyond yourself that the whole thing is too romantic to worry about and the music screams over any of your doubts that this is stupid, egotistical, and oh what the hell are you even gonna eat tomorrow; none of that matters because you know your life is being captured by these cameras in fucking airplanes so it must all be important and your petty concerns are sort of delightful actually. Like “look at me scavenging for berries!” and “hey, I have a hole in my shoe just like in Fill in the Name of a Novel where Fill in the Name of the Protagonist walks his soles to nothingness. This is un-fucking-real.
But imagination can only stave-off hunger and muscle cramps and blisters and filth and reality for so long. The music in your head fades and you’re just a stupid tired child who wants to go home. You would crawl back there in an instant, if you could. If home was behind you. But the reason you left in the first place was the desperate hope (when you are optimistic) or delusion (if you are not) that home is somewhere you find out there in front of you, over that mountain, through the thorns and mosquitos and unholy gazes. And if you were someone who prayed, that’s what you’d pray for as you fall asleep in the dirt. (c) mbscarpa 2014 |
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March 2016
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