The way the cello happens

And there are black and white parts of music, but music is not a color. It's all the colors. Is that white kind of? I guess, but mostly it is just there like how sometimes things just are there and you don't know why or what they mean and you don't care because sometimes knowing is just enough-- you know? It's important to remember those kinds of things so you don't get too upset thinking about them. The way her hands move and her brain can pay attention while her fingers are doing so many things while she has to be able to listen to all of her own sounds, listen to the way her and the cello and God are dancing all together to make something that is not just noise but the divine presence of and all of those things makes me feel, for a moment, inferior--- but when that moment passes, I remember my soft light and how it was once glowing inside of me next to you, lighting in a dim way to the instrumental version of George Harrison's solo "Something" and we are holding hands and not talking about anything in particular and I am missing people but that doesn't mean I never loved you the most. I'm still deciding, but I know that if I take a deep breath of air, I can still type and listen to her fast cello and even maybe repeat the beat back to you once the song and my words are done. This is not a miracle to almost anyone, but I know that if I were crying by a body of water on my day off and it would just be me and the earth noises, God would lay his hand on my shoulder and tell me that He's impressed. Softer lights, softer. All of it is something we belong here for. There is nothing that makes any of us matter less. We're here for different things. Some of us to play the cello, and some of us, born to listen, to reflect, to play her song soft back to you in a reflective and collective way --- this is how WE FEEL. It's not the same,  but it's still important.

And it's sunny out now and we're in a courtyard. I say I'm not impressive and you mean it when you tell me not to think like this. I know you mean it because I've heard the music. And it's still playing in me. And I'm typing these words listening to all the songs and remembering her cello and remembering the heat between bodies sharing secrets in nonseductive ways, remembering that true love is looking into another person and being able to tell them how their song sounds, not just how they wrote it, not just what somebody else heard, not just what it made me feel---- but the exact sound of you humming into life the way we all want to be.

There was something insane about the carpet floor, about the way you said her name, about how softer the world seemed when we were able to look one another in the eyes, for the first time, as friends. And I'm just grateful for the grace of forgiveness. Not only toward you, but the way I felt as if I'd forgiven myself, something I could not know how to do without you. The world, even softer still, growing soft and soft and cotton and clouds. I'm happy. This is something I need to accept.

And there was something about the time of night, my new "you" pushing my back along the hardwood, our lips holding back stifled laughter, and the music playing, and the look in your eyes, and knowing I love you. The way you say my name and the way you ask me questions. Something about how you are Something, my George Harrison, about the way you move me, about the way I push back and you don't let me, about toast and chirping birds and a really well formed sentence and seeing and old friend and a perfect frame for an okay picture and the way my handwriting looks right after I wake up and the day you can finally just leave your window open. This is what you are for me.

My heart moves fast and with you even faster, and you gave this to me, this ability to open it. Because it's never been quite this way, I still am constantly fumbling to figure how to be this way, how to enjoy without question, just how to come up and meet you for air at a normal person's requirement. You are teaching me how to breathe... but I'm a stubborn student. Learning to "let go" is something that makes me very nervous. But, for you,  I'll try.

"I respect you for challenging me." ... Marilyn Manson said this in an interview I was randomly watching and I loved how he put this. Dita Von Teese was the featured guest on Love Line last night and I ended up just researching her all night and that inevitably lead to me looking into Marilyn Manson interviews... wacked out night, but in a good way. Interesting cats, no doubt.

Anyway, rando shoutout to this fantastic makeup artist, because of a completely non-makeup-related video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8rVg3mT7Y8&feature=g-all-u&context=G2b9669fFAAAAAAAAVAA I loved this.

Sleepy Mix

This is the list of songs on my sleepy mix. Obvies, I listen to it at night on lowest volume and let it just sing me to sleep.

1. Our House - Crosby, Still, Nash, & Young
2. It's All In Your Mind - Beck
3. Fade into Me - Mazzy Star
4. Unknown Legend - Neil Young
5. Suzanne - Leonard Cohen
6. toolong - Devin O Guin
7. '81 - Joanna Newsom
8. Blood Bank - Bon Iver
9 & 10 - Have you Forgotten? Red House Painters - Vanilla Sky & Regular Acoustic-y version
11. Take it with Me - Tom Waits

I think in 2012, I will delete this entire thing and start listening to an entirely new list. Cliche and boring as it is, I need something else now.

Do you know what I mean?