there is a space that exists between what might have been and what we have instead...
there is a space that exists between holding back and embracing...
there is a space where one soul ends and another begins...
there is a space...
::
if you have ever been lonely...
if you have ever wanted to create from the depths of your soul about how life is both pain and beauty...
if you have ever known the feeling of standing face to face with someone and willing yourself not to kiss them... because life is complicated...
if you have ever had the feeling you were in the presence of a someone who will hold a significance you will never be able to explain in words, let alone truly understand...
if you have ever lived with what you cannot have... and wondered if sometimes that's not such a bad lesson to learn when it comes to hearts...
if you have ever been unsure of which way is forward, and which is back... and had to stand still in the present... and found someone there with you...
if you have ever wondered if someone thinks of you like you think of them...
if you have ever had to live with never really knowing...
if you have ever thought that another human being can be a blessing...
if you have ever loved and lost and loved and lost and loved...
then, do yourself a piece of loving... see Once.
you'll be glad you did.
i promise.
LB,x
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
mourning glory on the east coast line
seen...
this is the season of the fallen, the dying. but they're leaving in a blaze of glory.
the clock in the train carriage is stuck at 07:22. perhaps time has stopped and we are hurtling along while the rest of the world stands still. it is easy to imagine such a thing on a magical morning lifted straight out of a fairytale. thick mist finds the fields wrapped in gossamers of silver. the rising sun is a gilded peach crisscrossed in wide skating pond scrapes. we might be forgiven for thinking she's not in any rush to break the spell, such is the beauty she will burn off in her ascent.
too little sleep and the obligatory awful coffee cannot dampen the spirit of welcome that this frosted morning offers. the cattle stand as shrouded sentries at the borders of a kingdom.
i imagine the sun kissed dredlocked boy with whom i share this table has seen far more impressive sites on his travels from Oz. but if i had courage or perhaps a more friendly disposition for a fellow human i would lean across and suggest he turn his head so he can see the sun on her path.
this is a day of departing. were my brother not leaving i would not have been on this carriage. would have not seen this dawn...
::
read...
“ – the inability to distinguish between the real and the imagined, or rather the attitude that what we consider real is also imagined: every life is also an inner life, a life created.” – Margaret Atwood.
::
heard...
Oh tie me to the end of a kite
so i can go and i can go on with my life...
- Rosie Thomas
LB,x
this is the season of the fallen, the dying. but they're leaving in a blaze of glory.
the clock in the train carriage is stuck at 07:22. perhaps time has stopped and we are hurtling along while the rest of the world stands still. it is easy to imagine such a thing on a magical morning lifted straight out of a fairytale. thick mist finds the fields wrapped in gossamers of silver. the rising sun is a gilded peach crisscrossed in wide skating pond scrapes. we might be forgiven for thinking she's not in any rush to break the spell, such is the beauty she will burn off in her ascent.
too little sleep and the obligatory awful coffee cannot dampen the spirit of welcome that this frosted morning offers. the cattle stand as shrouded sentries at the borders of a kingdom.
i imagine the sun kissed dredlocked boy with whom i share this table has seen far more impressive sites on his travels from Oz. but if i had courage or perhaps a more friendly disposition for a fellow human i would lean across and suggest he turn his head so he can see the sun on her path.
this is a day of departing. were my brother not leaving i would not have been on this carriage. would have not seen this dawn...
::
read...
“ – the inability to distinguish between the real and the imagined, or rather the attitude that what we consider real is also imagined: every life is also an inner life, a life created.” – Margaret Atwood.
::
heard...
Oh tie me to the end of a kite
so i can go and i can go on with my life...
- Rosie Thomas
LB,x
breath taken
thanks to cheryl for comment on the previous post. been awhiles since i let the fingers flow straight from the heart.
tonight *this* took *my* breath away... fell upon it by sheer chance. all i know is this guy was in Shortbus, was brought up southern baptist, lives in NY,NY, is gay, and is as beautiful as his voice, although you won't be able to tell on this 'video'...i'm off to buy him up on iTunes. exquisite stuff. this song broke me into little pieces like the most fragile of blessings always do...
LB,x
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
emotion comes before language
well, we're back to the days of the only routine being no routine. but at least i'm back at the page.
i'm sitting with a coffee outside a downtown cafe and desperately trying to ignore a couple sitting in a car not six feet from me who, for the past 45 minutes, have been engaged in a marital dispute with the windows wound down. their passive aggression is sending spikes out onto the sidewalk to slice through the autumn sunshine with black icy coldness of disconnection. so i'm retreating into the iWomb. both wearing grey. sitting in a silver car. this mis en scene is all monochrome. devoid of colour. neutral is not always peaceful. there's your trouble.
you can be sitting in a brand new car facing foward and yet be going nowhere. but there must be something in this shade of grey. something in between, as Adam say.
::
this past week i have been staying a stone's throw from my old family home in the hamlet of Delgany which nestles above the Wicklow coast with my brother, my sister in law and my neice. our friend heather makes a wonderful host and we felt thoroughly at home. colour. texture. artistry. hospitality. ongoing conversations. connecting. listening. encouraging. celebrating. meeting many faces not seen for six years at least. memories being stirred. realising the things we choose to forget. realising the things we can't. and surrounded by families. infants. little people only just learning how to crawl. seeing the massive achievement it is to cross a floor on soft limbs.
but the underground feeling has been of homelessness. family tastes bittersweet. the joy throws shafts of light and the shadows become colder, sharper. provokes deep lying feelings down in the mists. i have felt stranded. orphaned. claustrophobic in the desert. dana scully once said, "Loneliness is a choice." this is not loneliness. this is the crushing pressure of aloneness which makes lonliness seems like a preferable option. the weighing need when feeling connection to put up walls. to push away. shut out. protect. defend. connection is risk. trust is a risk disguised as a promise. we're not dipping our toes here. it is a hard won battle to learn the craft of walking toward what you need rather than running for the hills to weep in peace. there is achievement in crawling. on days like these, love is a painful act of moving forward bit by bit while the mists of the past lick at the heels. history wants to strangle and suffocate. to eat hope with its slack empty jaws.
so we are stepping up to the plate. with the meagre tools we have. the pen. the page. daring to let the past speak. die to it. let the void howl. and stand firm. to use it. to express it. and then choose its opposite. to sacrifice security for moments. to give history a voice not knowing what it will say. to know that the infant is bearing secrets it did not have language for. only tears. but it has my mouth now. it can speak if i will let it. it has my limbs. so the page becomes a battle ground.
all art is autobiography. the muse is the child with a story to tell. time to let it speak again. it will be a painful birth. but it is the labour of freedom.
LB,x
i'm sitting with a coffee outside a downtown cafe and desperately trying to ignore a couple sitting in a car not six feet from me who, for the past 45 minutes, have been engaged in a marital dispute with the windows wound down. their passive aggression is sending spikes out onto the sidewalk to slice through the autumn sunshine with black icy coldness of disconnection. so i'm retreating into the iWomb. both wearing grey. sitting in a silver car. this mis en scene is all monochrome. devoid of colour. neutral is not always peaceful. there's your trouble.
you can be sitting in a brand new car facing foward and yet be going nowhere. but there must be something in this shade of grey. something in between, as Adam say.
::
this past week i have been staying a stone's throw from my old family home in the hamlet of Delgany which nestles above the Wicklow coast with my brother, my sister in law and my neice. our friend heather makes a wonderful host and we felt thoroughly at home. colour. texture. artistry. hospitality. ongoing conversations. connecting. listening. encouraging. celebrating. meeting many faces not seen for six years at least. memories being stirred. realising the things we choose to forget. realising the things we can't. and surrounded by families. infants. little people only just learning how to crawl. seeing the massive achievement it is to cross a floor on soft limbs.
but the underground feeling has been of homelessness. family tastes bittersweet. the joy throws shafts of light and the shadows become colder, sharper. provokes deep lying feelings down in the mists. i have felt stranded. orphaned. claustrophobic in the desert. dana scully once said, "Loneliness is a choice." this is not loneliness. this is the crushing pressure of aloneness which makes lonliness seems like a preferable option. the weighing need when feeling connection to put up walls. to push away. shut out. protect. defend. connection is risk. trust is a risk disguised as a promise. we're not dipping our toes here. it is a hard won battle to learn the craft of walking toward what you need rather than running for the hills to weep in peace. there is achievement in crawling. on days like these, love is a painful act of moving forward bit by bit while the mists of the past lick at the heels. history wants to strangle and suffocate. to eat hope with its slack empty jaws.
so we are stepping up to the plate. with the meagre tools we have. the pen. the page. daring to let the past speak. die to it. let the void howl. and stand firm. to use it. to express it. and then choose its opposite. to sacrifice security for moments. to give history a voice not knowing what it will say. to know that the infant is bearing secrets it did not have language for. only tears. but it has my mouth now. it can speak if i will let it. it has my limbs. so the page becomes a battle ground.
all art is autobiography. the muse is the child with a story to tell. time to let it speak again. it will be a painful birth. but it is the labour of freedom.
LB,x
Monday, October 15, 2007
Lynn & James tie the knot
any rumour that i have been sick as a result of excessive alcohol and dancing at the wedding is strenuously denied.
Mark's in NZ. here's some pics at his request.
the crew...
the beautiful bride...
now that's a good lookin' couple...
two words come to mind. irish. and poet...
my camera must've been on the G&Ts too. i'm seeing double...
Susan and Padraig enjoying the fellowship of champagne...
still smiling after all these years. ah yes. the kids aren't here. freedom...
Fabulous Darling!
Chris and the Blaney twins on the dancefloor...
add some champagne and dancemoves...
Padraig requested i take this shot with the comment,
"Is it usual for the bride and her bridesmaids to get undressed for dinner?"
LB,x
Mark's in NZ. here's some pics at his request.
the crew...
the beautiful bride...
now that's a good lookin' couple...
two words come to mind. irish. and poet...
my camera must've been on the G&Ts too. i'm seeing double...
Susan and Padraig enjoying the fellowship of champagne...
still smiling after all these years. ah yes. the kids aren't here. freedom...
Fabulous Darling!
Chris and the Blaney twins on the dancefloor...
add some champagne and dancemoves...
Padraig requested i take this shot with the comment,
"Is it usual for the bride and her bridesmaids to get undressed for dinner?"
LB,x
Recut 2: Scary 'Mary Poppins'
Mark Kermode has cited the Exorcist and Mary Poppins as examples of movie perfection... i thought of him when i saw this. more to follow as the week continues...
LB,x
Recut 1: Batman Begins
i've been sick these past few days. i've been cheering myself up watching movie trailers recut on YouTube. this is the first of my favourites...
LB,x
Thursday, October 11, 2007
National Coming Out Day 2007
The Human Rights Campaign Coming Out project called for video stories to celebrate National Coming Out Day 2007. There are some lovely videos posted on youtube in response. well worth browsing...
more info available at http://hcr.org/comingout and also at GLAAD.
LB,x
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
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