Think It Over

"Just remember what I said: you owe it to yourself to respect yourself enough to stay away from something that you know is harmful; work harder on maintaining the relationships that honor you and are worthy of that loyalty. All that shit needs to be earned, not given away."
-- David Cameo

I'm trying.  I'm really, really trying.

Inalienable

Here's the simplest truth:

I didn't start out angry.

And after what you did,
After the lies you told,
After the promises you broke,
After the shit you pulled,

I have every right to be angry.

Veracruz

We can split the rent on an apartment overlooking the water.  Someplace we can hang a hammock for two on the balcony.

We'll make our money diving for change on the malecón and washing dishes at Gran Café del Porta.  You'll learn the marimba. I'll learn how to pour a perfect lechero.

You'll wear summer dresses in February.  I'll dress like Ritchie Valens and serenade you whenever you get homesick.  We'll stroll through the Zocalo in the evening and admire the dapper old men playing dominoes.  Every once in a while we'll break into the Carranza Lighthouse and camp inside the lantern room.

We'll scour the city for months in search of the best arroz a la tumbada in the world.  Only then can we rest.

Years later, my Spanish will still be rusty.  You're already fluent, though, so I'm sure we'll get by.

With all that sunshine, of course we'll get by.

you. again.

You can.

You could.

You won't.

I guess that's it.  Good night.

The Long Haul

I used to joke that you wouldn't make it to February.

You lied.

Ain't No Trip To Paris Gonna Fix

Lately I've been thinking

I don't care if I live or if I die

You say, "Let's go to Paris, babe.

Forget about your troubles in the sky."

Some things you can mend with glue or tie with bits of string

Others you can try your best, but it won't do a thing

Now you know that I love you

You're the only thing I ever miss

But something in me's breaking, babe

That ain't no trip to Paris gonna fix

Lately I've been wondering,

"What's the point of living anyway?"

You bring me twelve pink roses

Say they help to melt the blues away

Something in me now has turned a darker shade than that

And it's so hard to fade a stain once it's gone to black

Now you know that I love you

You're the only thing I ever miss

But something in me's aching, babe

That ain't no dozen roses gonna fix

Lately I've been wishing

For all these hopeless thoughts to leave my mind

You say, "Let's go to Paris, babe.

You can leave your worried head behind."

Well, I have tried to outrun other sorrows in my past

Funny how those demons have a way of coming back

Now you know that I love you

You're the only thing I ever miss

But something in me's dying, babe

That ain't no trip to Paris gonna fix

Something in me's dying, babe

That ain't no trip to Paris gonna fix

-- Michelle Lewis, "Paris"

http://www.bfninyourears.net/content/TSYM_Live/TSYM21-45-Michelle_Lewis-Paris.mp3

Threshold

Whatever doesn't kills you doesn't make you stronger.

It only makes you harder.

It's that, or death.

So . . . at what point is death the better option?

'Cause this isn't living.

This is persevering.

This is one failed attempt after another to find a viable alternative . . . and it only feels like delaying the inevitable.