lament that we were deeply in love
The wind keeps blowing, while my heart
cannot heal all the tears in it
Someone, cry for me with parched eyes
The Real Folk Blues
I only want to know what true sadness is
Sitting in muddy water
Isn't such a bad life
If it ends after the first time
-- The Real Folk Blues, Yoko Kanno
Last night was another one of our techno-metal-industrial-other dances for the members of the Macalester Gaming Society. I had the middle set- entitled, fittingly enough(?), Harold and the Purple Rocket Launcher .
In retrospect, it was a name I thought of about an hour before the whole shebang started. The dance went, as far as I'm concerned, more fantastical than I'd imagined, even if no more than 16 people were ever there. ("fantastical" is a perfectly cromulent word) Mal and I totally screwed a continuous tempo, even for more than two songs at a time- so everybody who was dancing was pretty damn tired by the end- in fact, only Lyght and Satya were still dancing. Although my tempo crap was less by design, and his was moreso.
Do you ever think that moreso is a Spanish adjective for something? I know I do.
So, I'm doing it again. When I think back to high school, and Crystal, and how everything went to hell. And whether it was my fault, and how much heart I have left to go around. I used to think that it was finite- the necklace, the Canadian necklace, an amethyst dream of innocence regained. I gave my heart away, and I don't know how much of it is left.
Melodrama, probably- but they say that one of the only human emotions is regret. Today is today, and not a chance to remake the past. Do you think she knows? When I'm serious, can anybody tell the difference?
So long, Space Cowboy.
You're going to carry that weight.