How do you write something that you really want to share, but don't want to really share? How do you write in metaphor?
Just more than half my life ago, I was more selfish than I am now. There were others that weren't. There were others that weren't. I cared, but I was not there. I loved. I had embarked on my second adventure of love. The love prior was experience and real and went away, as did the next one. I loved three times.
She cries to the clicking. Oh.
In the middle, it wasn't much. In the middle, it became natural. In the middle it was love. Love for one another. Sharing simply.
At the other end of more than half my life, someone asked if there were compliments for me, and not just me. All I got was what was said. There were many things said. Like my love. It sucked me in and pulled me under.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
I was excited and nervous. I tried hard to remember the first time I went to a game. I lived in Bethlehem and Lehigh University was 15 minutes away. I went to a Mountain Hawks football game. I held my dad's hand. I went to a Phillies game, but my first one wasn't Game One of the 1980 World Series, but thats the first professional game I remember. I remember the line-up of that team. I've been to enough games to be nonchalant, but not too many to still get excited each time.
Lily and James went to their first game: July 3, 2009 Red Sox vs Mariners, Tim Wakefield v. Felix Hernandez.
I watched the Red Sox game on mute listining to Nocturnal Emmissions with Oedipus. The last one. Now its called Boston Emissions and will be on another channel. Listening to BCN these last days has been fun and nostalgic. I don't like nostalgia, but listening to great radio being replayed from the last 41 years, listening to the DJs playing their own music choices, listening to the DJs talk about one another and remembrences over their career was delightful.