Tuesday, November 21, 2006

The Grasshopper

Nature is obscene,
Fecund and lively.
Dirty little grasshoppers
discovered on a leaf in late summer
shiny with lust.
They carry on with their love plans
Unashamed of my watching.

--October 2007


I have the feeling that when I get old I'll be excited to die. I imagine myself telling my kids which of my stuff will go to whom and doing it kind of excitedly--as if I'm going on a long vacation. I've always wondered what it's like. The amazing thing is that so many people have done it--you know? Billions of people know what it's like after death.

I also can see myself wishing I were alive again.

I Will Follow You into the Dark

It's the kind of song that makes you revel in loneliness and uncertainty. That if the chance to know the truth did come, you wouldn't take it because you enjoy the not knowing so much. The kind of person who would rather not know. There's something romantic about not knowing, but loving anyway. The new faith for nostalgics and romantics. No more dreams of "Mr. Diary" or that "someday" prince. The new dream is of death and living in spite of it. Hoping in spite of pain, and holding on in the face of a laughing loneliness and in spite of the one sure thing--death. In that romanticism perhaps even death becomes uncertain. "I'll follow you into the dark." The song sings of a kind of loneliness that we love to feel--like drizzling days, sitting inside with music and pajamas at noon and blankets and warm muffins . . . but hopefully to have someone to share it with.

--written April 2006 after listening on repeat