The thing about feeling inarticulable feelings is that the only thing that can articulate these things in the least is poetry or music. Or a friend whom you can call up and say, "Hi. I feel funny" and have them understand exactly what it is and why it is you feel the way you do (after, of course, the preliminary, "By feeling funny, you don't mean pregnant, do you? Oh okay, thank GOD.")
It feels like the past has been folding in on me lately. Yesterday, Mario and I were talking about Sage Francis and Ani Difranco, and how much these people and their art means to us. It's funny how some things just feel like home, like wrapping yourself in the softest blanket possible, like lying on the floor and closing your eyes. These are things we discuss, and these are the things that are inarticulable -- you won't know what I'm talking about unless you know what I'm talking about. All these words I use are feeble attempts to describe the things that I feel that have no English translation.
Hindsight is a wonderful tool. I just wish it would come sooner. I guess you can't get a look at the big picture until you're farther away from it than you were.
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