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jackshoegazerI’d rather be working for a paycheck,
Than waiting to win the lottery.
That's a quote from a Bright Eyes song. And this morning while driving home, I thought of it in terms of a love metaphor. Would I rather be working on a steady relationship than waiting to win the lottery, a.k.a. strike it rich in True Love?
Every indication tells me that the idea of perfect love, of soul mates, of impossible, mythic love is an immature idea, obsessed upon by the young and abandoned in the face of reality. Even Spiderman says you have to give up your dreams in order to do the right thing. But do you have to? Is that really the only choice, the natural course of the heart?
I don't know and I'm feeling too melancholic, too bittersweet to think about it. Part of me says to give it up and the other part says to hold on. How to do both, I cannot fathom at this present moment. So I leave it alone and step away.
*Step*
I'd better take two just to be safe. *Step*
That leaves me plenty of room to tell you that the entire sky this morning was a dirty, matted blanket of unrefined cotton and the sun was the bright cherry of a celestial cigarette which had fallen into the rough bedding, threatening to burn the whole place down. One can only hope.
Last night, on the drive to work, the following poem appeared in my head, fully formed and I present it here for your edification:
Don't mistake this seeming poetic brooding for sadness or unhappiness. I revel in the interplay between the light and the dark and love is the seed which births them both.
Than waiting to win the lottery.
That's a quote from a Bright Eyes song. And this morning while driving home, I thought of it in terms of a love metaphor. Would I rather be working on a steady relationship than waiting to win the lottery, a.k.a. strike it rich in True Love?
Every indication tells me that the idea of perfect love, of soul mates, of impossible, mythic love is an immature idea, obsessed upon by the young and abandoned in the face of reality. Even Spiderman says you have to give up your dreams in order to do the right thing. But do you have to? Is that really the only choice, the natural course of the heart?
I don't know and I'm feeling too melancholic, too bittersweet to think about it. Part of me says to give it up and the other part says to hold on. How to do both, I cannot fathom at this present moment. So I leave it alone and step away.
*Step*
I'd better take two just to be safe. *Step*
That leaves me plenty of room to tell you that the entire sky this morning was a dirty, matted blanket of unrefined cotton and the sun was the bright cherry of a celestial cigarette which had fallen into the rough bedding, threatening to burn the whole place down. One can only hope.
Last night, on the drive to work, the following poem appeared in my head, fully formed and I present it here for your edification:
Lachrymose eyes lacquered,
Oceans to eyelashes cling,
Brine encrusted sandman's dreams-
A macrobiotic diet of tears,
I kiss away the streams.
Don't mistake this seeming poetic brooding for sadness or unhappiness. I revel in the interplay between the light and the dark and love is the seed which births them both.
