Some say the heart is just like a wheel

When you bend it, you can't mend it

And my love for you is like a sinking ship

My heart is on that ship out in mid-ocean

 

They say that death is a tragedy

It happens once, then it's over

But my one only wish is for that deep dark abyss

For what's the use of living with no true lover

 

And it's only love, and it's only love

That can break a human being and turn him inside out

 

When harm is done no love can be won

I know it happens frequently

What I can't understand, please God hold my hand

Why it should've happened to me

 

And it's only love, and it's only love

That can break a human being and turn him inside out

 

Some say the heart is just like a wheel

When you bend it, you can't mend it

And my love for you is like a sinking ship

And my heart is on that ship out on mid-ocean

 

And it's only love, and it's only love....

I'm sitting here in my room talking to my friend Rachel as heaps of books and movies sit scattered haphazardly about. My kitten takes pleasure in knocking everything down and initiating my grey hair growth. It's difficult to believe but it's finally started. I'm getting things off of my shelves and organising them into the groups they'll be boxed into. Sounds obsessive but really it makes the whole process of moving much easier. I've been so impatient that it's actually quite relieving to be doing this. I hate waiting for things to happen. I always want to make them happen. If I'm ready to do something I will do it and I've been ready for this move for a while.

 

A week from this moment I will be in Seattle. I will most likely be worrying about what I'm going to wear the next day because I go in to talk to my future boss about my new job at Banana Republic. I know it'll all be okay but a gay man is never happy with his wardrobe. I think it's our curse.... among many.

 

I've been in a pretty bad mood all day today. I think it all started with the music, ironically. Me being such a lover of music. Not this kind of music though. I don't enjoy listening to a woman with a voice eight hundreded octaves above what a dog can hear squeaking into a shitty mic. Right outside my door, nonetheless. See, I live in a loft and directly outside is an amphetheatre where people perform during neighbourhood parties. They hire crappy bands to come entertain the unentertainable. It turns into a crowd of grumpy people and screaming children throwing sno-cones and popcicles at their twenty-year-old mothers. I chose to be absent but being where I am I can't really escape the festivities. The music pulses through my walls and taps at my brain. It's relentless and I soon get a headache. The headache is the quick-fast way for a crappy day. Weekends are boring. Especially weekends with crappy bands and headaches. The new predicament.

Such a rush, such a flush, I don't know what I'm doin'! Total mass, total class, what's this life got a brewin'?!

 

I find myself asking that question more and more these days. It's not as if I can help it though. Things happen in seconds and decisions happen faster than that. I've come to the conclusion that life is weird. Oh, in a totally wonderful way, but weird nonetheless. I'm moving to Seattle. I'm getting away from a place I don't wanna be and starting a full on life for myself. I've made attempts before and had it ruined. Not by me, but rather by the bloomin' idiots I chose to be roommates with. You'd think that people would mature as they grew older. It's a sad thought to wrap your mind around that some people never develop emotionally past age twelve. It's even worse when you're the one having to hold shit together and you're the youngest of the entire crew. No, that's not going to be the case again. Damn that.

 

As I sit here and wait for the time to come that I'll have to pack up all my stuff and I leave (nine days), I find myself often sitting around, lost in thought. I turn over everything in my head and feel I could write novels on my opinions of things. Then I sit down and write, or worse, I'll have a conversation with my friend, Bianca, who, I'm sure, was just being politely interested. Sometimes I can't believe the shit that comes out of my mouth. My mind just lets things fall out of my head like gumballs and I'll find myself losing interest in the very things I began talking about. It's odd. I'm hoping that this period of reflection is offering me a chance to find my voice. I never used to have one. I never really cared to have one. As I let my eyes drift across the room, I imagine all the things that never were. And all the things that could have been.

 

I find myself struck by these analytical thoughts once more as I'm sitting with two girlfriends outside a restaurant. We're having dinner and I constantly miss what the others say. My attention too preoccupied with the flashing colours and energetic waves of sound that are coming from across Pearl Street. I wonder how it would be to make my life a musical one. Play my violin for everyone and feel elated that I'm making a living by making people happy. Music is never thankless. I'd be lucky though.... no, luck has nothing to do with it. I read about how the newest hit musician was discovered by a cracked out record exec in a club watching this person playing a guitar and sing while he obviously rolls on Ecstasy. They leave the club, trash their hotel room, do a lot more drugs, then it's off to L.A. in the morning on the exec's private jet. Luck has nothing to do with anything.

 

I have a good feeling that I'll be able to put some of this thinking power to good use. I also think it's a curse. No one wants to think everything through. That's how flaws are found. Blissful ignorance. Wouldn't that just be a whole lot better? I am who I am. I see what I see. I think what I think. I don't think any amount of will power will change those hard-wired things. Has all of this thinking just led me to the conclusion that I want to have a career in music? Have I been THAT preoccupied over something I really don't need to be preoccupied by? I'll bring my violin down to Pike Place Market and see what I can do. Luck has nothing to do with anything.