Matchbox Maladies

Catastrophic uncertainty of the self.

Month: March, 2012

by Sine Qua Non

This is weird.

I have to continuously ask myself whether I’m actually attracted, superficially drawn, slightly amused, or completely delusional. This is funny because I wouldn’t really call myself confused because I’m not problematically head over heels although there is a nagging sense of interest that I wish I didn’t feel.

One thing for sure, you’re totally not my type.

 

So why am I hoping that I’m yours?

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by Sine Qua Non

it will be you and me.

and on the backseat, a guitar we both can barely play. the car speaker thumping out our crazy beats. your hand intertwined with your DSLR. the fingers of your other hand through my hair. it will be awkward. but we will linger in it. we will think of why we never dared do it before. we will ask questions. we will try to answer. we will fail to figure it out. instead, we will sing.

it will be at the back of a pick-up truck making its way through the highways of south america. it will be under a sky so full of stars we’re sure to include it in our next personal movie. we’ve known it for so long. seen it in our heads. wrote it on our notebooks. flashed in our minds in-between movie sequences, passages from books. we knew all along how it would play out but failed to just throw ourselves to chance.

the hot-air balloon will rise and leave ground soon. inside, a picnic basket of pastrami sandwiches, a bottle of scotch, a dish of foie gras, and a bag of nuts. it will be joined by our guitar, our camera, our music player, our kiss. once edited, the rest of them will see the scenes in time-lapse. in the meantime, we’ll wish for slow motion. in the meantime, the pick-up will make its way towards sunrise. we’ve known it all along. it will be you and me. it will be.

by Sine Qua Non

the thing is there’s really more to this than good music. i wish i could figure out the sense of comfort that i felt when i told you about how low i feel because of this loss as if you being virtually there could provide comfort that you in whatever way understanding the intensity of feeling could make everything better

you did until you stopped being there. the green light’s all there is, but when will you ever really reach out? he’s dead. i’m sad. you’re there. not here. it’s all about loss now, i’m reminded that i really couldn’t have you, eh? or maybe i could. i wish i could. i will. the universe will give you to me someday.

this prayer’s for you.

and i wanted to say —

by Sine Qua Non

i could have forgotten you already.

you could at least stop bothering me. while i try not to care about whether you care or not.

just a few more weeks. it’s either i toast to knowing you’re too good to be true. or we toast before that premeditated moment of you taking advantage of me.

oh supposedly, it’s you and me.

Rage, rage

by Sine Qua Non

The funny thing is that I don’t really miss you. I realize that I now miss the feeling of missing you more than you yourself. I think that is more apt because, well, I fell only for a parcel of your being that was known to me. In fact, I fell for my image of who you were  more than who you actually are. I fell for you in my head.

Now, I’ve zeroed in on the act of falling. I’m longing for the feeling of falling now that it seems I’ve become merely fallen. Have I hit solid ground already? Maybe. Or maybe I’m learning how to walk on air now. Finally, I’ve  taken control of the jump.

Coming face to face with this new truth, I begin to enjoy this new phase of being attracted but not attached. The aftermath of such intense desire is this: the match that was struck burst into flames, more than half is charred, eaten by fire, while the rest of what’s left falls off, and a tiny speck of ember tries to keep itself intact – glows, burns a little more, before finally giving itself fully to a gust of wind. There is no death, only a reunion with the air that gave it life, made it light.