All this has happened before and all this will happen again. Anytime, anyplace. I’ve been in this house before. I’ve felt the keys, held the knobs, and slid my fingers down the spine of this swollen and bubbling house. I watched my whole life slide out of view here. I cried when my mother cut my hair with a pair of dull scissors. I read pages and pages of the Harry Potter in any given arrangement of sounds and vowels. And now I know that story.

 

casey brehm- asked me to go to concert, they’re going to concert on last night, we listened to that as we drove here “my kids grew up on your music”

katie baker was here- katie baker contacted me

i painted that painting here- then gave it to ms. ohm

I said goodbye to bobby lang here, and all those kids graduating…conor choi was here…and josh and the man who came to dinner cast party 

 

I remember the morning we got here. Swollen with sadness, exhaustion and drenched in the sweat of our old house we came bumbling through the doors with our heads weary with wheezing old walls and the paper cuts of cutting ties. 

 

I’m not sure if I ever quite knew I was here until I was gone. I’ll always be gone, and iLL ALWAYS BE HERE AND i’LL ALWAYS BE WRITING IN THE DEEP HOURS OF THE NIGHT TRYING TO MAKE CONSCIOUS THAT WHICH IS INVISIBLE, THAT WHICH HAS NO SHEILDS BUT KEEPS RUNNING AND RUNNING AND KNOWING ME IN A WAY THAT ONLY i COULD NEVER KNOW but somehow reaches for and away and towards at all times. I am always reaching towards this house…towards the objective house. Towards that magical place where something is held, where family is somehow divinely innate. And i’ll keep painting myself into the edges of trees, dancing on the tops of stars and swallowing night skies as they land over green pathways of plants. I’ll be here and i’ll be there and maybe life just keeps trying to teach me that nothing ends. Nothing ever ends. the world is infinite and we spin out in circles within circles. Ever neverending and always infinite and unsee-able. i will only ever be able to see out of my own slimey eyelids. just the briefest glimmer of what the goddess will let me see. Just showing me just enough to make me belief. And to let that belief be enough for the universe to churn on. Just the words “I Believe”…in the very idea of faith…in the sheer faith that love exists. that anything exists. that anything is real. that everything is a mystery. that the mystery surrounds and sustains, types through my fingers, breathes through my lungs, taps through my torturous tongue that still insists on forming sensible words after all these years. after all these years. after all these years. again. 

Circles within circles.

Magic.

 

 

The Healing House

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