THINGS I WANT TO REMEMBER

When I was five, I lived on 16th avenue. There are bits and pieces in which resonate my mind every so often. I remember marriage. I remember writing on the walls and baby corn and naps on the couch. The first time I got the chicken pox. I remember it all so well and I was so small, not aware of the feelings that consumed me the way they did others. The curls on my head grew, along with my mother and father. There were times when my dad would wake me up a half an hour later than I did for school just to let me sleep in. He would sometimes pick me up in the middle of the day and let me leave. This was the prime of my childhood. It was the constant reassurance that I was loved – and it came unconditional. It did not have any rules. It breathed on its own. It swallowed up every fiber in my body, structuring me, molding me as I am now. I just want to write. I don’t know what about. But it will be pages long, and I’ll continue until I feel like I cannot anymore. These are the things I wish I’d said.

my mind is always everywhere. i live for words. sometimes they aren't my own, and i post them here. sometimes i will post things that are mine. this blog is a collection of photographs i take and the things that i want to remember.

things - my things - personal

~ Monday, January 9 ~
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Once upon a time there was Candy and Dan. Things were very hot that year. All the wax was melting in the trees. He would climb balconies, climb everywhere, do anything for her, oh Danny boy. Thousands of birds, the tiniest birds, adorned her hair. Everything was gold. One night the bed caught fire. He was handsome and a very good criminal. We lived on sunlight and chocolate bars. It was the afternoon of extravagant delight. Danny the daredevil. Candy went missing. The days last rays of sunshine cruise like sharks. I want to try it your way this time. You came into my life really fast and I liked it. We squelched in the mud of our joy. I was wet-thighed with surrender. Then there was a gap in things and the whole earth tilted. This is the business. This, is what we’re after. With you inside me comes the hatch of death. And perhaps I’ll simply never sleep again. The monster in the pool. We are a proper family now with cats and chickens and runner beans. Everywhere I looked. And sometimes I hate you. Friday — I didn’t mean that, mother of the blueness. 
Angel of the storm. Remember me in my opaqueness. You pointed at the sky, that one’s called Sirius or dogstar, but only here on earth. Fly away sun. Ha ha fucking ha you are so funny Dan.
A vase of flowers by the bed. My bare blue knees at dawn. These ruffled sheets and you are gone and I am going too. I broke your head on the back of the bed but the baby he died in the morning. I gave him a name. His name was Thomas. Poor little god. His heart pounds like a voodoo drum.


Candy (2006)

Tags: Things