Funeral for the Living

Yesterday evening, I was downtown and had some spare time before I went out to spend New Year's Eve with some friends. So I stopped in at the coffee shop again just to kill some time, and today I was lucky- the boy from the show was working there.

So I was sitting at a table drinking my coffee and studying the liner notes for 'The Shape of Punk to Come' when somebody stopped by my table and asked "Hey, is that a Refused album?" I looked up to see who it was, and... it was him.

I didn't know what to do, so I nodded and asked if he liked them. It turns out they're one of his favourite bands. He had just got off his shift, so he sat down and talked to me. To me. I didn't think he would ever know I existed. -I- hardly even knew who he was.

His name is Tobias. I think it's just as beautiful as he is. He was wearing the same hoodie as when I saw him for the first time, and he has this shy little smile that is absolutely adorable with his lip ring. It would have been impossible for me to talk to him, except that he seemed just as shy and awkward as me. How someone that amazing could ever be nervous about anything is beyond me.

We talked about Refused for awhile, and about local music, and complained about how there haven't been any shows lately. It turns out he loves Cry of the Afflicted as much as I do. I can't believe I'd never noticed him at a show before, because he said he goes to most of them.

But we couldn't talk for very long because he had to leave. I asked if he was going to meet people for New Year's, and he said, "Yeah... my girlfriend will be here soon. She's supposed to meet me after I got off work."

Of course. I haven't felt so stupid in ages. Of course he would have a girlfriend. He's the most gorgeous boy I've ever met, has wonderful taste in music, -and- he's amazingly nice. Of course he would be taken.

I feel like such an idiot for not realizing.

I don't think I've ever had a worse end to a year.

it must be the thousandth time around the sun
till the world has stopped shaking
we'll keep on faking

so this is liberation
so this is
vindication
so this is
so this is

call me up when you've made up
your mind
we are transmitting
regretting
forgetting

slit the veins one more time and maybe
this time
they won't hold

so this is
liberation
so this is
vindication

by the time you get my letter
I'll be forever and a footstep away
forever

so this is the taste of sin

It never fails to amaze me how much beauty there is in the world. There's the little things, like powdery snow swirling across the road as cars brush over it, or the trees on the hillside white with frost. There's winter sunsets and warm hugs from friends. But nothing compares to what I saw today. Today, I saw the most beautiful thing in the world.

I was downtown this evening and stopped in at a coffee shop to warm up a bit, the same place I was at a couple days ago. I haven't been there very often, but I think I found a good reason to go more often. It turns out the boy from the show works there. But that's not the best of it.

When I saw him at the Stutterfly show, it was dark and he had his hood up, so I couldn't really see his face, and when I saw him on Friday it was only briefly and from the side. Today I saw him clearly for the first time... and it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

I can't even describe it in words. He was... gorgeous. More than pretty enough to be the singer for a band, and with a voice to match. The kind of beauty that makes you want to cry because it's just so powerful. When I listen to Celtic music, or when I'm standing in front of a cathedral, I've had that sensation of pure beauty before, but even that doesn't compare. I know it seems shallow to be finding beauty in a person, but it really wasn't. There's something about seeing it in the shape of a person, a real living human being, that makes you feel humble without being inferior, that just shocks you and takes you over completely. It's somebody real, another person just like the rest of us, a creation of nature like the rest of us. I was... floored.

I wish I could have told him how gorgeous he was, because I don't think he realizes it, and I think it's the sort of beauty that goes unappreciated in the world today.

He was like a poem.

I have to admit that my faith in other people has been restored considerably in the last week. It's been amazing to realize the support network of friends that I actually have. When I needed people to give up their afternoons or evenings to help me out, they did. They were on time, they were cooperative, they were so willing to help. And I never really knew how willing some people are to -listen- to me complain for that long on end, even when it involved staying up till ungodly hours of the night. Perhaps people have more integrity and worth than I normally suspect.

This afternoon I stopped at a coffee shop to get something to drink, and I saw the boy again that was at the Stutterfly show. This time he didn't have his zip hoodie but he was wearing a plaid scarf, and he looked so pretty. He was alone, but he didn't see me and I didn't know how to go up and talk to him. It made me happy to see him again though.

Also, I was in a store the other day and they were playing Modest Mouse. It was nice to hear.

The other day a friend played this song for me, Mad World. He described it as 'the most beautiful song ever'. I was a little skeptical, since normally I don't listen to much but hardcore, but it actually turned out to be quite decent.

The conversation went something like this:

"See, isn't it just amazing?"

"I'm not sure... it's very pretty, yes, but... the background musical parts kind of kill the emotion in the voice and lyrics. Maybe if it was done acoustically? I just think it needs to be... quieter."

"...forget Hitler. You are the epitome of an enigma."

I did end up going to the show tonight. It was at a nightclub for once, which was kind of an odd venue, but it worked out fairly decently. I'm glad I did go... it was good for a lot of reasons.

Adamant was okay, and CotA was excellent as always. Stutterfly hasn't been here in awhile so it was awesome to see them play again. They put on a good live show, and the singer is truly adorable.

Once again today, I was able to feel infinite- rocking out at the edge of the moshpit, letting the notes flow through me, not only hearing, but feeling the music. It was the kind of bliss that only being at a show can give. I wish I could always feel that free.

Also, I saw a boy wearing a black zip hoodie that said 'DEAD' on it. His hair was black and he wore his hood up. I don't know who he was, but he smiled at me. Something about that smile was just... right. He had his lip pierced. I wish I could've talked to him. He was the kind of boy I'd love to love.

There's a part in 'Perks of Being a Wallflower' where Charlie talks about sitting in a truck with his friends, listening to music, and feeling infinite. Like there's nothing holding you back. Like the world is yours for the taking.

It's true, what he's saying. Driving around town at 6 AM when it's still dark, listening and singing along to Something Corporate with some of my closest friends... that was an amazing feeling. It's as if everything was finally okay, and I knew it would all work out in the end, and I didn't have a single problem in the whole world. I felt infinite.

The only problem with the feeling is... it doesn't last.

"They come by night, cruising in their uniforms and their dances down the damp city streets, swinging along like mad weekend lovers to the stereo sound of liberation. They come as witnesses, spectators and participators, crazy, wild and drunk on love and noise. The speakers explode and we are blinded by a wall of sound, screams, beats. The movement flows through the room as the band is on fire, flying across the stage. Naive, beautiful, yet serious and scarred. The skinny, feminine looking singer touches his lips in a signal and gesture of communication and revolt. Wisdom flows like water and the new name, this new beginning, is like the bullet the CIA killed Kennedy with: relentless and hard. 2000 years of convention all gone up in smoke with the stroke of a burning guitar that Kristofer gently holds, caressing it like it's his baby, cause tonight it is. The beat hypnotises as the heat is felt through the room and we all take part knowing that revolution never felt more alive. David looks out over the stage and with the twist of a stick he takes us into places we never even thought existed where we believe and know for real that this is the time to live, fight, steal a kiss and eagerly join in. Get down, they scream, and we all get down, we all get with it and we take the plunge cause it feels good and when Jon, heavenly looking, stares into our eyes we know that nothing is wrong, that we will walk on water and look at each other with amazement. It's a night of magic and every note hits like a hammer. The smell of perspiration and perfume is flowing through the air as we hold each other tight, moving along to the manifesto. This could be the shape of punk to come, liberation theology in practise, togetherness spiting the dividers and rulers, the sum of our parts forming the gag in the mouth that voices the status quo, woven into fabric with every last thread of our defiance sewn to fit like the shirt on my back. Or it could be just another sleepless midnight punk romance."

-Refused's 'The Shape of Punk to Come'

I am trying to decide which is worse, having your heart broken by someone you love and trust, or having your heart broken by someone that will never know you loved them.

On the one hand, having somebody break your trust is horrible, and even them loving you wasn't enough to keep them from doing it. But on the other hand, I think when the person (albeit unwittingly) does something that makes it impossible for you to tell them how much you care... that's awful too. It deprives you of the opportunity, had you ever wanted to take it. Plus, you can't blame them, since they didn't -know-, which deprives you of a 'how could they do that to me?' scapegoat. Accusing someone else is half the fun of the healing process.

I think both situations would be pretty bad. It's strange, isn't it, how something so trivial can hurt so much? We are such silly creatures. I'm not sure if I even believe in love anyway; perhaps it's all just an elaborate ruse to give meaning to our otherwise-pointless lives...?

~Raven

I'm not sure why but I feel very lonely tonight. Sunday nights are always lonely times, it seems. Maybe that's because they're halfway between the excitement of the weekend's events and whatever is going to happen in the upcoming week.

Right now I should probably be asleep instead of writing, but I'm hesitant about going to sleep. I've been dreaming every night for the past couple of days... most of them are okay, just normal-strange dreams, but I died again in my dreams the other day. I was shot in the head. I hate these dreams; they make me afraid to go to sleep.

I am reading a book called 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower'. The protagonist Charlie reminds me of a friend of mine, and I can't quite figure out why. I think I'd like Charlie if I met him, but I have to disagree with the title of the book. There really aren't any advantages that I can see to being a wallflower. I'm trying to 'participate' in life too so I'm not a wallflower, but it's hard sometimes. It's just so much more comfortable being alone.

This evening I went for a walk outside because it had snowed and it looked so pretty. Something about the snow makes me feel peaceful. The world seems so quiet after a snowfall, like everything's muffled. I met a cat while I was on my walk, too. I think it's a stray because it looked thin and dirty and was scrounging around in some garbage. I named it Coal because that's what colour it was. It purred when I pet it.

I think I'll go listen to music for awhile before going to bed. Maybe it will distract my subconscious enough to keep the dreams away.

I've been hearing about this site for awhile now and finally decided it would be a good idea to start a journal of my own. Writing here is probably safer than a diary because it's harder to find accidentally, if you think about it.

I've also always found writing to be a good outlet for emotion. Maybe I'll post some of my poetry or something on here too. This is kind of exciting to just have my own little place on the internet. On the other hand, it's strange to think that somebody could actually read this.

There isn't really a lot to write about right now. This Friday there's a show that I might go to... perhaps I could write about it if I do go.

Signing out,

~Raven