noah yourself

Month: November, 2012

i think we all have problems with it. I used to only think about voice as far as how weird it sounded on the answering machine or the comments on my essays as a young student. “Strong voice,” my papers read.
i didn’t think about finding my voice or losing my voice or trying to find it..again. I didn’t think about finding a new voice or ever stepping so far into the metaphor to discuss range or pitch.
i want to say things to people. share. speak.
i’m trying to say things so i don’t lose more. so i gain more than i had before. so i don’t feel like it doesn’t get better than how it was. that is a hard way to be.

and i miss it. speaking. i miss saying how my day was. i had a terrific one the other day and then didn’t know who to tell.

a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, did it fall? a voice falls on an empty room, did it speak?

i had a week. I got an amazing commission the other day. I think you’re the only person who would appreciate it as much i did. it’s for an era piece. something you would plotz over and i just wanted to tell you. the pain in my body wasn’t so bad and i was able to work out for the first time in like a month. i finished one of my finals early, so i started a new book.  i had a meeting that made me feel like i could be really happy. i danced. i had a good talk with my brother. maybe, just maybe we might get along one day. every month that goes by we don’t fight, i get a little hopeful. that feels vulnerable, but that alone, is good right?

my month is full of plans that won’t happen. celebrations. thoughtfulness. and i want to think that when this part is over, it will all feel ok. and my voice… maybe it won’t feel like i’m holding it in. because the things i want to say will be things i’m allowed to? i won’t bite my tongue instead of saying, i am lonely without my best friend.


happy early.

Sick on top of sick. I can’t do the things you would, so I’m trying to do the things I would do for you.
Lemon honey water.
Steamy soup.
A place to curl up in.
This is an exhausting place to stay in.

This thing

My parents were married thirty years today.

I still want the things.

Last night I had a dream with a pet lizard. He was my friend.

When I woke I laughed and thought of you.

Watch “Florence + The Machine – Falling (DEMO)” on YouTube

I taught the boys about grilled cheese and syrup. There was no cottage cheese.

I think I’m typing into thin air. Which is fine. Which is… what it is. But I miss my person terribly so I’m typing because my ways of reaching out seem less than welcome. So this is for my sake and not yours.
I slept in my pants last night and woke with a sick feeling in my stomach. There is no one there to give a shit.

It’s been over two weeks now, and can’t shake this illness. There is something inside me, harming me, and that is maddening. And I don’t know how to get better. I don’t know how to sit still this long… truthfully, I don’t want to. Moving constantly has kept me sane.  And right now, I’m just sad.

I want to type some metaphor, about pains that don’t go away. About pain that has no other markers or outer symptoms. I want to write about permanent nerve damage but talk about the heart. I just don’t want to be that obvious.