| conor |
[Thursday
August 28th, 2008
8:22pm] |
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[Thursday
August 28th, 2008
1:52am] |
It's the best thing that you ever had,
The best thing that you have has gone away
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[Tuesday
August 26th, 2008
1:08pm] |
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goodbyes are meant for lonely people standing in the rain. & no matter where i go it's always pouring, all the time.
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| Silverbell Lane |
[Tuesday
August 26th, 2008
8:24pm] |
The dense moss underfoot makes walking in the forest almost silent. Sun filters through from above, and in the boughs sing birds, their tiny breasts swelling with songs of summer joy, the breeze that wafts through the trees ruffling their downy feathers and bringing with it a smell… a fragrance that reminds me of a place from when I was very little. Closing my eyes, I find myself drifting far away to that place that is now found only in my memories...
Walking up the lane to Grandma's cottage was always something to remember. Silverbell Lane was aptly named, with large Silverbell trees lining the dusty road, which was little more than a rough dirt path. The old, rotting gate that denied access to any smoke belching cars had stood the test of time well, because according to my Grandma, the gate was as old as her cottage, which had been built by her own father, long before there were cars, planes or electricity. The air hung heavy with the sweet fragrance of tiny, delicate bell-shaped flowers that hung on threads among the leaves above, and every time I smelt that smell, I imagined myself as one of those little snowy-petalled flowers, hanging high above the world, watching the passers-by collect dust on their shoes.
The cottage was at the last bend in the road before the bridge that led to a white pine forest, the forest we had named the Forest of Bones due to the cracked white boughs that had fallen from the trees long ago. We were fearful of that place, because Grandma told us of the wild pigs that lurked among the shadows, ready to gore little boys who might imagine themselves as explorers, although wild pigs or not, we would always be scared of that dark forest and the ghostly, twisted shapes that glowed among those monoliths of wood.
The gate to Grandma's cottage was, in a way, my favourite part of the short journey from the car to the house. It was like opening a door to a different world, a world of strange flowers, fruit preserves and dusty shelves. Between the cobblestones in the path peeked moss and miniature violets, and to this day I have never understood how their tiny seeds found their way into those cracks, and somehow knew the way from the dark nook of their birth to the world of sun and pollen above. I remember asking Grandma this very question, and she told me that fairies had planted them. I didn't believe her, even though I wanted to.
Somehow, Grandma always knew we would be coming. She would be standing on the doorstep, a wrinkly smile lighting up her old face, and from behind her wafted the smells of pikelets with blackberry jam, or home made mince pie. Grandma's cottage was surely a place born in fairytales… her home a Silverbell tree in our busy world of smoke and concrete pavement, her world, which I had wished would last forever.
Standing alone in that magnificient forest, I realise now that it did still live on, in the fragrance of Silverbell flowers, in the moss underfoot, and in the songs of the birds above me.
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[Monday
August 25th, 2008
11:23pm] |
heck yeah teck yeah.
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[Monday
August 25th, 2008
8:31pm] |
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A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment
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[Monday
August 25th, 2008
10:08pm] |
"The memory came. And, as I'd been warned, it was not something that could ever be prepared for.
It seared with sharp color and ringing sound. Cold on her skin, pain gripping her limbs, burning them. The taste was fiercely metallic in her mouth. And there was the new sense, the fifth sense I'd never had, that took the particles from the air and transformed them into strange messages and pleasures and warnings in her brain -- scents. They were distracting, confusing to me, but not to her memory. The memory had no time for the novelties of smell. The memory was only fear."
-The Host by Stephenie Meyer
When I read this I got chills because this is how my brain works. When I think of a memory, I cannot put it into words, I only have feelings, sounds, colors and smells. There are never any words.
This is really intense.
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[Monday
August 25th, 2008
5:21pm] |
I'd like to stay a secret, like walking in the dark.
If no one knows you, no one cares,
so no one breaks your heart.
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[Monday
August 25th, 2008
5:16pm] |
The lights strung out across the yard
remind me of a time when I tried
to be a light, ya know, god I try to shine.
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[Monday
August 25th, 2008
5:14pm] |
over that new paved highway
there is a house where love was made
not with screaming and touching
but with the records quietly spinning
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[Sunday
August 24th, 2008
11:34pm] |
most days i go and just sit there, sit there and wait for nobody.....hoping that maybe one of those days you'll walk through that gate, safe and sound and come home. If only death were reversible.
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[Sunday
August 24th, 2008
11:15pm] |
what if now is all you have?
live as if you never knew
what it was to lose
honestly, have you ever been honest with yourself?
or are you someone else's point of view?
you live in regret
it's hurts to know how much you'll miss
it's what you expect
that leaves you such a mess
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[Saturday
August 23rd, 2008
3:00pm] |
I'm coming over but it never was enough
I thought it through and my worst brings out the best in you
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[Saturday
August 23rd, 2008
2:40am] |
Give me one reason to stay here - and Ill turn right back around
Give me one reason to stay here - and Ill turn right back around
Because I dont want leave you lonely
But you got to make me change my mind
Baby I got your number and I know that you got mine
But you know that I called you, I called too many times
You can call me baby, you can call me anytime
But you got to call me
Give me one reason to stay here - and Ill turn right back around
Give me one reason to stay here - and Ill turn right back around
Because I dont want leave you lonely
But you got to make me change my mind
I dont want no one to squeeze me - they might take away my life
I dont want no one to squeeze me - they might take away my life
I just want someone to hold me and rock me through the night
This youthful heart can love you and give you what you need
This youthful heart can love you and give you what you need
But Im too old to go chasing you around
Wasting my precious energy
Give me one reason to stay here - and Ill turn right back around
Give me one reason to stay here - and Ill turn right back around
Because I dont want leave you lonely
But you got to make me change my mind
Baby just give me one reason - give me just one reason why
Baby just give me one reason - give me just one reason why I should stay
Because I told you that I loved you
And there aint no more to say
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[Saturday
August 23rd, 2008
2:05am] |
Standing on the top of a mountain (flattop) over looking most of the city of anchorage! god i love living here. ( this was taken in the winter btw )
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[Saturday
August 23rd, 2008
1:57am] |
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[Friday
August 22nd, 2008
10:07pm] |
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[Friday
August 22nd, 2008
10:07pm] |
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The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough. ~George Moore
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[Saturday
August 23rd, 2008
12:29am] |
school is almost back. ryan is leaving. busy as shit
college applications. jobless. birthday.christmas.
failure. kill me?
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