Self-deprecation is worth its weight in smoldering phoenix-ashes and baby unicorn tears.
or; repentance, of a sort.
Published on April 3, 2008 By SanChonino In Religion

A new post from Spain.  I want to apologize for my last couple.  They were inappropriate, and now no longer exist.

--

31 Mar 2008.  4:02am.

I look back and read what I've written, and I'm shocked and disgusted by the brazen way I juxtaposed things that shouldn't be put together, and with the way I presented myself, and even more so by my own actions.

I'm not ever going to see Marina again.

Ever.

It's the middle of the night, but for the last week I haven't been able to sleep.  At all.  I throw on some clothes, grab my rockboxed Sansa, and walk quietly out of the door, careful not to disturb Cameron.  Perhaps going for a walk at three in the morning is a bad idea, but I need some air.

I wander aimlessly, lost in thought, trying to figure out where I went wrong.

Scratch that.  I know exactly where I went wrong.  Wrong was putting myself in a situation I knew would turn out bad.  Wrong was giving in to things I know lead down paths I don't want to have anything to do with.

'Good Friday' was all wrong.

The music drifting from my earphones envelops me, wraps around me like an ephemeral call from a siren.

'The shadows . . .'

The shadows creep around me, poking their fugitive heads around corners and from under benches and cars.  I can almost see their faces, dark and impish, with pinpoint eyes shining like sinister diamonds.

'. . . shadows

of the dead . . .'

It's as though my sins, my mistakes, all the dead in me, have become flesh - they watch, they wait, biding their time.  Aching for me to succumb to them again.  Their long, bony hands reach from the darkness to grab me.

'. . . in the silence

in the night . . .'

I begin to run, trying to sweat out my past, cut out my indiscretions, escape these shadows of temptation.  They take chase, a furious army of demented gremlins mimicking my every movement.

I push myself harder, running faster, anything to escape what I fear I'm becoming.  Suddenly I'm on the beach.  (What is it about the Mediterranean that continually, subliminally calls to me?)  The shadow goblins coalesce into a hideous, dark version of me.  I hear its voice: "Don't run away from us, I'm what you can become.  Give in to us.

"Let yourself fall.  Let yourself be.  Don't follow antiquated social norms in the name of religion."

I run full tilt towards the sea.

'. . . close your eyes

and see the stars . . .'

I run as fast as I can, but it's not enough.  My shadow self catches me, covers me, begins to consume me.  I'm covered by a thick, nameless tar - my sins made tangible.

I do the only thing I can.

'. . . the shadows

and tremors . . .'

I kick off my shoes and dive in to the water, swimming as fast as I can.  I hear a scream of agony as the darkness begins to wash off, sloughing off with each stroke.

The Mediterranean is cleansing me, offering me hope as I swim ever eastward.

'. . . of the sun . . .'

There's a tinge of pink on the horizon, a deep magenta colliding with the dark indigo of the sea.

I continue to swim.  I finally feel like I'm free of the ghosts of my past, though my arms ache and my heart beats a million miles an-


I practically leap out of bed as my eyes snap open.  My entire body is soaked in sweat - it's dripping off my brow, coating my arms and legs.

But for the first time in over a week, I feel okay.  I slither out of bed and kneel, thanking God and once again asking his forgiveness and help.

I finally feel that familiar, chill-inducing xylophone arpeggio run up and down my spine as my heart burns.

I finally know things will be okay.

I finally feel some peace.


Comments
on Apr 03, 2008
Very respectable, bro. I like this new one a lot. Renews my respect and admiration for you as my brother.

Thanks for the new article. Apology accepted.
on Apr 03, 2008
Thanks, sis. Glad you enjoyed and that I've earned your respect again.

I lost my own for a bit there.

And so ten centuries solemnly collide
Love failed and I have
Lost my Name

Secrecy hoards the treasure
Coveted most by me
As rainwater collects in barrels
Sleep covers Abuse with Time
Too many dream-haunted hours
Leaves me with seasons swelling and growing
And without welcome, fading
Something makes sense in ripples
Grief is the corpse from which worms feed
Alas, I am not this stricken man
Suspended by sunlight, shadows break
Their silent vigil
As rainwater collects in barrels
Lucifer rose up to kiss the analgesic dawn
While below, Something roll'd the stone away
Something makes sense in ripples
Gradually, I saw Abuse is a Name
And ghosts will seem forever
Less fantastic

Like a kiss, soft, and wild with the delicate steps of petals fallen in a stream
This swirling ballerina turns in faint and sighing grandeur
Across the floor to me.
A monarch plays the violin to a summer's afternoon
Whilst quietly the earthworm adores the soil in winter's sparkling gloom
It breaks away, growing as the flowers do.

A thunderhead embraces his enraptured lover
And kisses with a gale that also makes the cattails shudder.
His tears cannot, as he proclaims his love, be held with lightning back;
They fondly dance into an open window
And fondly dance with mine.

Our eyelashes weaken with a weight that is sweet and fine,
And this feels like frogs and spiders in the sweet outside.
Tell me why world, unfathomable and good,
The beauty of everything is infinite and cruel.

An airplane, a puppet, an orange, a spoon,
A window, and outside
Stars and the moon.


Kayo Dot, 'Marathon'
on Apr 03, 2008

I'm glad you been cleansed and finally feel peace. It's truly a wonderful feeling.

Just so you know I don't enjoy your writings about Spain because of your "adventures" with the opposite sex. I enjoy them because of the quality of the writing. I give this article as proof.

on Apr 03, 2008
Just so you know I don't enjoy your writings about Spain because of your "adventures" with the opposite sex. I enjoy them because of the quality of the writing. I give this article as proof.


Thanks, man. I'm glad that people still come and read them. Cedarbird was giving me a bad time earlier about my Spain writings because she says I wax far too poetic. I tried to explain that I want this journal to be something that actually gets read, not just collects dust on a shelf somewhere, so I try to make it as interesting as possible.

When that wasn't enough for her, I answered the only way I could - 'That's just how I talk.'

Her reply? 'I know. Weirdo.'

on Apr 03, 2008
Cedarbird was giving me a bad time earlier about my Spain writings because she says I wax far too poetic. I tried to explain that I want this journal to be something that actually gets read, not just collects dust on a shelf somewhere, so I try to make it as interesting as possible.

When that wasn't enough for her, I answered the only way I could - 'That's just how I talk.'

Her reply? 'I know. Weirdo.'


Um, yep. True story. Happened about two hours ago. I still think he talks funny. But then, years of living with him have made me talk funny, and I get made fun of all the time by my friends who think I use funny words...so there you go. Guess it's all relative.
on Apr 03, 2008

Just so you know I don't enjoy your writings about Spain because of your "adventures" with the opposite sex. I enjoy them because of the quality of the writing. I give this article as proof.

My thoughts too.  I've always thought your turn of phrase was particularly poetic, which is why I enjoy what you write and always look forward to reading anything new from you.

Man, your subconcious really let you have it, though.  I could say don't be so hard on yourself, but I think you've already sorted that one out.

on Apr 03, 2008
My thoughts too. I've always thought your turn of phrase was particularly poetic, which is why I enjoy what you write and always look forward to reading anything new from you.


Me three. I agree 100% with Maso and UDigIt.

I could say don't be so hard on yourself, but I think you've already sorted that one out.


...and I agree with THAT too. Pick up the pieces and move on.
on Apr 03, 2008
When that wasn't enough for her, I answered the only way I could - 'That's just how I talk.'


That happens to me sometimes...

Hey...by the way, if you really want to get rid of that girl...umm...send her my way. I got my own lists of sins, and that ain't one of'em.


Good writing as always, SanCho. Lookin' forward for anything else ya got to say.

~Zoo

on Apr 03, 2008

I've been hit and miss on your Spain threads....I didn't see anything riske'...did you write something riske? hahaha

Seriously, whatever it was that caused the angst, thank God you have siblings to keep you on the straight and narrow.

I liked this SC, a lot.

on Apr 04, 2008
I've always thought your turn of phrase was particularly poetic, which is why I enjoy what you write and always look forward to reading anything new from you.


Thanks, Maso. You know how to make a guy feel good about what he does.



Me three. I agree 100% with Maso and UDigIt.


Thanks, Joe. Yay for ego boosts!

Zoo: this is one can of worms you don't want to open.

Tova: it's always a pleasure to see you make an appearance on one of my threads. Thanks.

thank God you have siblings to keep you on the straight and narrow.


Amen. Thanks, CB and BD.
on Apr 04, 2008

welcome back! 

on Apr 04, 2008
Amen. Thanks, CB and BD.


Anytime, but then, it's only fair that I return the favor. You watch out for me so often, it's about time I give a little in return.
on Apr 07, 2008

Great article bro.  Glad you are feeling better.

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