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11/21/2017 1 Comment Once more, with feeling.. Does anybody else out there ever experience the phenomena of attempting to pour their heart out only to find five minutes later that someone has done a far superior job?
In my case it's Eric Clapton. Some lyrics have been fluttering around in the back of my brain for months and they all suddenly came rushing to the front just after I posted my last entry. Instead of waiting for another one and musing (plus rambling) on it, I decided to damn the torpedoes and post a link instead. Thanks, Eric. Promises by Eric Clapton
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11/21/2017 1 Comment Confessions I tried. Honestly, I really tried. I tried to care. but I couldn't. I tried to love, and that failed too. I tried everything, and in the end I came up cold and empty. I can almost remember what it felt like to be in love, but not quite. What I have felt in the last few years, what tiny amount I have allowed myself to feel, is a pale reflection of my memory of love. Honestly, I think I've set myself up to fail. At first I obsessed over women who were unobtainable. Then I set my sights on those who were unreachable, and ultimately on those who were unreasonable. A perfect hat trick. I did my subconscious best to avoid those with whom I had any chance, and by then I was too old for any of them. And by then I was too far gone to try with any others. I know, there is no try. But let's face facts, Yoda is fictional and I've done the best I can to make sure I face my declining years alone. So after way too many years I'm going to admit to my ultimate mistake. Amanda, I done you wrong. It's too late for that to be of any use, but I'm admitting it. You were my soul mate, and I drove you away. And I regretted it, and was sure that was the end for my heart. Then I finally found Foxglove, and for a long time, without know it, I had found the other part of my soul. She was perfect, she was unobtainable, she was safe. On the other hand, she was a liar, a manipulator and a fake. Then all at once the paradigm shifted, and I failed to ride the wave. Foxglove, we had a couple of hour of near-perfect communion, whether or not either of us can ever fully admit it (though I guess I'm admitting it now though you never will), but a couple of hours in an August long gone are far from the time needed for two souls to finally weave together. You've gone your way and I've gone mine, and I don't doubt a bit that I'll be missing you for a very long time, and I will live all that time with the fear I'll never find another like you. Honestly, once again, you're in the past. And in the present I've found only one to compare, but she doesn't see me in the same light; any light I might find in her eyes is eclipsed by the darkness you still spread across the landscape of my existence. I've heard that confession is good for the soul. Now I've confessed. My soul doesn't feel that much better, but maybe it will tomorrow. I think I would give my right arm to be in love again, but I don't think it's ever going to happen. I'll die alone, and I think I'm finally coming to terms with that. So the keithalman.com blog has finally become my secret confessional. So be it. So it goes. It is what it is. Things are as they are. I'm still going to be lifting a pint to the beautiful woman in the pub, but now I think she's turning away from me and our eyes will never meet. I'm not okay with that, but I'm beginning to accept that it's our destiny. It still hurts, even if it's fate. |
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