(excerpted from)


(soon to be a major motion pic... errr, that is, coming soon)

...wanting you to care and understand, I attempt to introduce my heart, which is my primary guide in this life, as it is today (could be scary, huh?) by allowing it free creativity to share where it's been... I hope, in time, that giving my heart voice in these letters to the night might begin to explain and even effectively demonstrate it's influence on my life...

 come now as we journey back to the beginning...

~ ~ ~

it feels like only yesterday
and sometimes it feels like eternity
since I felt loved and trusted

the crystalline love we shared
was so pure and clear

we were children sharing
without inhibitions, overcoming fears
reaching beyond ourselves
beyond this life, beyond the years

and then parents and friends
meaning too well
came to interfere

broken two hearts
maybe two wills
love's purity was poisoned

the crystal clouded...
never again to be so clear

the first death I remember in this life was in nursery school... two children exploring each other, guided by instinct alone... but nudity and touching was a problem for the teachers and psychologists were brought in to figure out what was wrong and of course, to help us...

  I wouldn't know, hearts do not wear clothing...

  but I did learn to hide...

years of what humans call growing up followed... the explorations were restricted to fantasy and paper and pen and mostly private moments alone, though I masturbated in class on a regular basis through grade school... I could not tell you if anyone noticed, for no one ever mentioned it... for all I knew, I appeared to have successfully learned stealth...

what, I've been asked, does masturbation have to do with the heart... well there was no separation back then... what I felt I felt with my whole self, heart, body, and whatever else a being may be... as a heart, I was not separated from the rest of the living creature in which lived... the whole body was me and every feeling was touched me... stll does...

along the way I discovered the brain, a complex and confused nerve center that thought it controlled me and this the body (though we all know the heart is the mind in this body)... I tell it what to do and it follows me blindly... still, it's complexity and confusion can get in my way sometimes and then it blames me for it's screw ups... the brain is an irresponsible child... I think the main problem is how we interprete fear... the brain seems to freeze, hesitate, and reach out in all directions for answers therein confusing itself... I enjoy fear for it wakes me up and keeps me focused on the only answer there is, to love and be loved...

the separation of love into ethereal and physical was perhaps a necessary step in my evolution, as human children are not permitted to explore physical love while ethereal love is pounded into our psyches in extremely diverse forms through every imaginable medium from fairy tales to religions to family values to songs and more... love, but don't do it... feel it, but don't act upon it... madness... no wonder it all becomes pretense...

I waited until the teen years before I dared act upon it again, more discretely and tentatively as, for all our innocence (ignorance, inexperience and harmless intent), we were still too fully aware of the outcome of physically going all the way... and still the brain wonders if unconditional love without physical intercourse is love unrequited... not in the heart, where it counts... I was quite requited, believe me... the rhyme above reflects upon this teenage romance, though it can just as well describe the nursery school affair if we choose to take it as seriously... I do...

so, destined to repeat the Romeo and Juliet tragedy (just short of physical death, for, through wisdom or folly, I'd learn to hold back in the physical world what can not be held back in the ethereal), I died a thousand deaths more times than I care to remember... and yet I can not forget even the smallest detail... the brain tried and almost succeeded in taking over...

naturally, life grew more complex and quite confusing...

('naturally' being yet another word, like 'wrong', 'help', and 'growing up' used earlier, chosen for it's irony and used with stoic, if not morbid sarcasm... I suppose this would be called and editor's note, huh?)

if an adequate life metaphor, as many males in this modern Western country seem to think, is baseball, then I have seen a third strike more than once so far... failures or learning experiences, large and small, I've piled up enough to last many lifetimes... from nursery to the teen romance, I, as a heart, may have been in it, but the body was hiding... after this body was finally of legal age to try and even if I already appeared dead due to the teenage loss, I would not pass the opportunity to share love in any way I felt possible even if the brain tried to separate me from the body just cuz I was so deeply sleeping it thought I was dead...

minor disasters followed... the losses haunted me and tore me apart... to quell my agony, I explored the social poisons of my day and lost myself for a few years in various institutions of higher (and lower) learning (words are such amusing ironies sometimes) and other drug-induced wanderings through detached physical-ethereal experiences... amazingly, the body survived...

somewhere in my written gardens I have lists of names and dates and a chronological calendar of the history of experiences I've known... someday perhaps someone will care enough to want to share every detail or every heartbeat and perhaps provide enough inspiration and trust to spend the time it would take to explore, find, and edit the volumous archives of written history and creativity (separating fact from fantasy might require a bit of magic at times)... for now, this introduction to life as I've known it must suffice for anyone who cares to know where I have been, at least from the perspective of love, ethereal and physical...

coming out of the wasted years (wasted in several senses, from chemical wanderings to lack of permanent bonding and loss of the past bondings that once meant everything... drugs definitely empower the brain and if I haven't made it clear by now, the brain is not to be trusted... it's mostly computer, after all, we can't expect it to think on it's own), I was shaken by deaths of public figures I had raised to iconic proportions for the way the touched me... a choice befell me, to live or to die... I chose life...

shelved were all the obvious poisons (and there they remain, though occasionally my brain flashes memories and I what it would be like to share a chemically induced journey with someone new) and my eyes opened upon a world I had created in my sleep... I was working in an institution set up by the state to help people who could not, through little or no fault of their own, help themselves... nurturing work, the vocation I am most suited for... it appeared that at least professionally through the material world, instinct lead me well during my slumber... yet I was never more alone...

and so I opened myself and the hunger, like a vacuum sucked in a beautiful child who remained with me for more than a few years... all that was missing from the sharing was the creativity I longed for as she was not into music or words or testing the extremes or the body or mind... alas, a beautiful child on the conservative side was a very safe choice, but not the right choice for me... a cowardy fool chooses safety over dreams...

too much brain influence, obviously... but I must take responsibility as I am in control of this vessel and fear did overwhelm me for a while...

physically I was wandering in a semi-sleepwalk, but a pleasant dream it was... ethereally I remained quite dead for all intensive purposes, except, perhaps, in the middle of the night when I would write of dreams all but forgotten during the apparent life I lived at the time... and then there came a time when my courage rose from the dead and I set off in search of the inspirations my ethereal self needed to survive... packing and moving almost two thousand miles from what had been my childhood home town (not the first move nor the farthest, but the first time I packed and took everything), I arrived where I am today... since that first arrival I have wandered thousands of miles from here and fell into a myriad of traps and died a few more times, but for whatever reason, I returned to this second home to lick my wounds, perhaps first now... we approach today...

the irony of the word home demands explanation... I do not mean a physical dwelling, for I have not known a house to be a home yet in this life... close, once or twice... I've owned one and mostly moved into another, but never moved in completely enough to call four walls and a roof a home... home is this body and in the sense of this writing, home is a large metropolitan area, though I am most comfortable on the fringes where the forest remains natural and grass still grows freely...

the last few deaths took more out of me physically than all the others before, probably because I invested so much more physically into the life of the love I shared... the reasons for failure can be dissected and analyzed forever and as with the previously mentioned details of names and dates, perhaps someone will come along to care enough to inspire me to edit and explore (isn't that the ultimate dream?) one day... for now, suffice to start by saying some of the wounds still bleed and some of the scars are probably still very visible, if not grotesque... this is what happened...

I gave her everything
every secret passage to my heart
every thing that can not be replaced
and the method to my madness
the keys to my sanity

it was euphoria
every secret dream I ever knew
every thing I ever wanted
and the pleasure of the moment
was the dream coming true

and then she turned
and took the light of day

and then she rose
and took away the love

and then she turned
so cruel
I laid there like a fool

beaten and bloody
inside out
what had it been all about?

I woke up on the street
every cell of this body freezing
every thing that mattered gone
the method to my madness
the keys to my sanity

it was pure misery
beyond the hell of worst nightmares
and I still have missing pieces
lost the way to recovery
feeling like nobody cares

there used to be music in my mind
that carried me beyond the grind
and saved me from the human pain
kept me whole, alive, and sane

there used to be music in my heart
that raised me far above my part
and lead me to a better place
where I lived in a state of grace

she kept the music
and now I'm lost
and I'm afraid this last toll
was too high a cost
can you understand
what I need from you
a frozen solid heart
will leave no clue

if you can read my mind you may yet make it through
I await in death's cold stasis for something new
to draw me back out of the blue

~ ~ ~

dream sequences pass through my mind... sequins fall like snowflakes upon virgin sand, apparently the unnatural mixing with the natural, tainting the beach and creating something new... and yet, perhaps they were bits of colored glass returning to the sand from whence they came, just posing as sequins, a test of faith... and memory calls from the nursery school to sing me this chorus I first wrote in crayon... maybe the brain is not so useless after all...

...out of the blue is where you find me
painting pictures in the sky
...out of the blue, so don't remind me
cuz I've found a perfect high
...out of the blue, you can come with me
or you can go on your own...

they say a savior walked on water
but he took that walk alone

~ ~ ~

and once again, revised for today... found in the early years on this page

I pause now to send this, probably in some vain attempt to elicit a response, but open and proving I can still trust myself to tell the story of a life, in words at least, to lay bare and raw and unedited and vulnerable before the world and before an individual who might do anything...

Intro (Brief Summary of the Life of a Heart) ... Candor Communications 2001