air
It's sad.
It seems like I haven't commented your post in a while, as I had left you one a couple of weeks ago but it got deleted. Really sad. It was a great comment; witty, a bit nostalgic too.
I can't remember what I wrote. All I know is that I didn't want to leave you a "so, just left you a really heart-felt comment, but it mysteriously dissolved into the deep corners of the interweb, so...I miss you, kbye." Those always leave me feeling so sad. Like, I wonder what was said...what would it have meant to me? Would it have inspired me? But it's gone. So. Huh.
I shouldn't write Blogspot comments to any of you while I'm at work. Seattle's Best does this strange thing to me. Strange, by which I add too much feeling to instances, or memories, that are devoid of a second thought, and rightfully so. Maybe it's the copious amounts of caffeine that makes the electricity in my brain surge from synapse to synapse, fabricating an emotional response that is meaningless, artificial.
I actually feel quite guilty, right now, as if this fanciful, imaginary spewing of words have no consequence. Neither in my brain, or in your effort. It ends up as poetry, or even worse, thoughts of a 26 year old faux-French philosopher sloppily jotted down on a napkin, or a Molskine; air.
I don't want to leave you air. Not with all that we had. I don't want to fill this gap (that is a gap, a real, deep chasm that exists between our persons physically, in our experience, our thoughts, goals, and hope) with air.
It seems like I haven't commented your post in a while, as I had left you one a couple of weeks ago but it got deleted. Really sad. It was a great comment; witty, a bit nostalgic too.
I can't remember what I wrote. All I know is that I didn't want to leave you a "so, just left you a really heart-felt comment, but it mysteriously dissolved into the deep corners of the interweb, so...I miss you, kbye." Those always leave me feeling so sad. Like, I wonder what was said...what would it have meant to me? Would it have inspired me? But it's gone. So. Huh.
I shouldn't write Blogspot comments to any of you while I'm at work. Seattle's Best does this strange thing to me. Strange, by which I add too much feeling to instances, or memories, that are devoid of a second thought, and rightfully so. Maybe it's the copious amounts of caffeine that makes the electricity in my brain surge from synapse to synapse, fabricating an emotional response that is meaningless, artificial.
I actually feel quite guilty, right now, as if this fanciful, imaginary spewing of words have no consequence. Neither in my brain, or in your effort. It ends up as poetry, or even worse, thoughts of a 26 year old faux-French philosopher sloppily jotted down on a napkin, or a Molskine; air.
I don't want to leave you air. Not with all that we had. I don't want to fill this gap (that is a gap, a real, deep chasm that exists between our persons physically, in our experience, our thoughts, goals, and hope) with air.
You are more than that.
We were more than air.
Even if, right now, you can't see it.
You don't know where it is, where it went, or even know where it's going.
You just know that you felt it.
You just know that you felt it.
You felt it and it moved you.
posted by Landon A. @ 14:10
2:
Landon, is this post purposefully ambiguous so that each one of us will think it is written for ourselves?
Is it really that much of a tragedy if your words have no consequence? Even if they don't mean much, i enjoy them.
What are you doing for your twenty first?! I want to be there real bad.
This post was honest, I think, only because it was originally a comment I began to write to you. But I had realized that as I continued to write, I was writing to a lot of you, except probably more so you and Aley. It's probably just because you're both not here, and I kind of don't really know what's going on in your lives. New things, it seems, new things that just don't seem familiar anymore.
Suzie read this and said that it made her feel sad. As I talked to her about it this morning, she explained that it was because we are all growing up. I think that most of the time, "up" also means "apart." That portion of life, I have already accepted - and with great joy, because I know that there are such amazing things that we're doing now, and will be doing in the future. I guess, maybe, I am lamenting over the fact that what we had was just that; something that we "had," something that was once in our hands. (This is also what I mean about writing comments and posts that seems way, way too dramatic!) But it's true. And I know that we all want to be true. And I also know that old things must go, and new things must come, and that that is the progression of all of life.
This too shall pass, and so it goes, all wrapped up in one. I wonder what will become of this old Blogspot once we have forgotten.
--
My twenty-first will be quite low-key. I have several menacing groups of friends who want to get me heavily intoxicated, though I think I will resist! I'm just spending time with people, at homes and lounges. Haha. I do know that I want to steer clear from clubs, and nasty bars that feature old reruns of epic football games and a new breed of mold. I am excited for wine. For my hearts sake, of course. And excited to have a drink with you in the coming future!
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