Saturday, August 04, 2007

A Letter to a Friend Never Sent

I think perhaps that our last correspondence wasn’t quite an accurate depiction of life or of this moment in time. Perhaps, more accurately, I find myself in the mood to write a little, the first of such an impulse I have had in quite a while.

Much as I might have been bold to say “we are living our lives”, I meant it not so much as a statement of living to the fullest, but more as a statement that here we are, breathing, making or not making choices, eating, sleeping, shitting, and all the other mundane and glorious things that go along with 21st century existence. So what is there to say?

I could say that some day’s I’m miserable, a misfit, doomed by nature or nurture, or fortune and fate, to never know what it is to feel connected to the world. I could say that since I was 15 I pissed away so many opportunities because of insecurities, or ran off from every solid thing I ever had in search of kicks, or that even when I was out getting them, I held back or let those insecurities flood over me even then. I could, and some day’s I do feel like that, and I have to live with all of it, and that is enough to bring down any man.

So what holds me up then, what gets me out of bed in the morning, no matter what the mood, what makes me want to write like this to you? Here I am, alienated, mislead, lost, sentenced in a far corner, and yet have a desire to put down uplifting words to send out into the world. Maybe the answer then is right there. Maybe you don’t realize it, but when you sit down at your computer in the basement of your parents home, and play a piece of music I made for you once, sit down and write a little anecdote about how you’re sitting in your parent’s basement listening to a piece of music I made for you once, it makes me want to get up in the morning just that much more.

It’s the rainy season here, but sometimes when the sun is setting out over the ocean its rays get in under the clouds and light them up all gold and red. I am always at work at that time, and if I have a moment I like to step outside and maybe have a smoke and watch the light disappear. I always feel more collected when I step back in. This is what I am getting at.

All of our self defeating enterprises aside, what I want to share with you are just that these are the moments that somehow keep us going. They are moments that don’t have much worth in the world, but they are the only reason I have the strength or the courage to write this. It’s where dreams come from, where ideas are born. Take a little time and ask yourself that in these past years, have you not, aside from all the things you could say to dismiss them, learned a little, enjoyed a moment here and there, shared with another, and made someone’s step a little lighter?

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