With nightime tears sunken

Under what waving banner
shall we gather under
for we have tried, and tried and tried
Who-what will bind our sunder
and fulfill our empty banter
with meaning without sighs,
meaning without sighs.

All is in flux; so we tell ourselves; so we make it

It's been a long time since I've written a public introverted post. So, what goes on in my mind when I'm feeling a deep vat of mixed emotions ranging from great joy, to sunken sadness?

I like the smell of a cigar. I like the way it flavors my mouth and my tongue. Everything then passes through the smoked sieve and tastes old and earthy.

I like fried tomatoes, cut in half —all shriveled and oily. It's juices running into other Scottish breakfast necessities (such as sausage) on your plate as you wonder where to start and come up with a strategy to taste a bit of every piece of food at once.

I like tequila when mixed with other fruity liquors, some lime or lemon and salt to boot. It's salty and sweet, a balance of colors in your mouth that do a jig. The buzz you get from tequila is so much smoother too, much more mellow.

Music that makes you wonder where you are in life, music that makes you smile inside and makes you think about people other than yourself—that's good music.

Yeah, I hurt inside, but I can't decide if I unwillingly hold on to traumatic memories because they are mine, or if I painfully hold on to them because they help me. Most people think that a person doesn't hold on to memories. But we do, we hold on to them tightly, because we are meaning driven creatures and Pain is so powerful and so disturbing and alien to us, that we look deep into its eyes and scream at the top of our hearts for an answer of it.
We want meaning like we want air. Take meaning away from a human and you deprive him of will to breath, eat and drink.

I like victories. Victories in music sound of triumphant crescendos, those moments where you're at first humbled by the immensity of the power a single note can make you feel and then want to join, be apart of it. Victories in art are difficult to look to long at. It's a challenge to keep looking at them, because they make all else stumble in pale comparison. Victories in life, I feel almost aren't as appreciated. Maybe because we have trouble celebrating a moment, a particular instance—which is maybe why traditions are so powerful (or, again, so meaningful). Traditions are repeated remembrance of a particular moment...

I miss being held by God.

One poem in my top three

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

~W.B. Yeats

I like finding gold

Isaiah 55

"Come, everyone who thirsts,
come to the waters;
and he who has no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without price.
Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,
and your labor for that which does not satisfy?
Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,
and delight yourselves in rich food.

Incline your ear, and come to me;
hear, that your soul may live;
and I will make with you an everlasting covenant,
my steadfast, sure love for(G) David.
Behold, I made him a witness to the peoples,
a leader and commander for the peoples.
Behold, you shall call a nation that you do not know,
and a nation that did not know you shall run to you,
because of the LORD your God, and of the Holy One of Israel,
for he has glorified you.

"Seek the LORD while he may be found;
call upon him while he is near;
let the wicked forsake his way,
and the unrighteous man his thoughts;
let him return to the LORD, that he may have compassion on him,
and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

"For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

"For you shall go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and the hills before you
shall break forth into singing,
and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;
instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;
and it shall make a name for the LORD,
an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off."

"My body, this lean carrion that still has to be washed and fed and have clothes hung about it daily with so many changes, they may kill as soon as they please."

-Third sentence in from "Till We Have Faces"

Praise be to the Victorious One, He who has conquered death, with love and not justice—He who has set Justice at the feet of Love and have blessed both with a child named Glory.