Resurrection Fern

In the presence of Iron and Wine, with nothing but an unnervingly-demure crowd, and cough drops, your thoughts are louder than your mouth can ever hope to be. There has never been anything quite so captivating for me, or so annoyingly placed. When your mind has a lot to mull over, and you’re presented with nothing but time, you think.

Earlier this year, I wrote something about the beginnings of what I deemed the Great Senior Divide, with hopes that what I was glimpsing then would soon subside and what we all knew of normalcy would soon return. The sad truth of it, though, happened a lot like not-knocking-on-wood does for me. When I acknowledged the weird, engaged with the different, it just illuminated itself, and got worse. This past month has been a prime example of what happens when true colors show. Actually, I’m not even sure “this” is what happens when people are themselves because I’ve lose any and all desire to uncover layers of people--there are sometimes just too many. You discover too many faces, you then lose all desire, and with that, all motivation behind getting to their core--in fact, I’ve lost belief in the existence of cores, for some.

I think I expect too much all together. I keep getting reminded that what I have is not normal; which I’m aware of, but I guess the reminders are to keep the full gravity of my abnormal in check. I think I expect people around me, those I associate with, whether or not they’re “my people,” to ethically respond within certain boundaries towards certain situations--and admit to certain wrongs when they wrong. When they don’t, and nothing holds them to it, when nothing binds them--why can’t I?

So surrounded by an ocean of sound, I remembered. Because I am not this. I am not this overwhelming noise that can carry you. I am just a girl in the world. While I don’t agree with what you’ve done, and know one day, somehow something will justly right you, and isolate you in your amoral path, I am nothing more than a single sound. My morals are nothing more than simply mine. And what I feel is ethically right, cannot be forced upon you.

So even if in the middle of a beautiful thing you find you have a horrible cough, it's okay. We have cough drops. Close your eyes. They're designed to sooth your throat--you just have to be patient enough to let them work.

there's nobody like you

When I was a child everybody smiled, nobody knows me at all.
Very late at night and in the morning light, nobody knows me at all.

I got lots of friends, yes, but then again, nobody knows me at all.
Kids and a wife, it's a beautiful life, nobody knows me at all.

And oh when the lights are low,
Oh with someone I don't know.

I don't give a damn, I'm happy as a clam, nobody knows me at all.
Ah, what can you do? There's nobody like you. Nobody knows me at all.

I know how you feel, no secrets to reveal, nobody knows me at all.
Very late at night and in the morning light, nobody knows me at all.
Nobody knows me, nobody knows me, nobody knows me at all.