The Memorial Rainbow

121312 -- Year In Review

Thu, 13 Dec 2012 18:30:46 GMT

So I decided Facebook didn't do a good enough job of summarizing my year with posts -- so I figured I'd do it myself. At the end of my junior year at Miami I wrote a very Broadway-esque piece about, well, my junior year. Here it is again, with updated words that talk about 2012...because it kind of sucked.

These halls I walk
-- these tunnels echo
of faded times and long ago
I walk these lines
These numbered back roads
Waiting for the day
When I'll say "hello"

The empire stands
Strong and proud as ever
By the chandelier
Just like it did last fall
-- after all, after all
"it's just a game?" -- It's not a game!
Still, I'm the one who leaves behind the paper cranes --

and I'd do it all the same
Just to hear your name one more time
I'd do it all the same
Just to know your name and make it mine

See, I wake up at eleven o'clock
And everyone's at WORK
I've got someone who won't stop acting
Like a total jerk
And here I sit still unaware
Of the background noise and the meaning of the hair
So what, six train? I'll ride you again
To the Hudson Metro Line

Say ichi, ni, san!
One and a two and a three and a four
Ichi, ni -- nan?
How could I remember --
lonely night at the carnival and come all who are strong
Take away where I belong, no
Give me back where I belong!!

and I'd do it all the same
Just to hear your name one more time
I'd do it all the same
Just to know your name and make it mine

-- stop, hammer time! (piano solo)

He's strong and sure, and doesn't need help
With his eyes held straight, an unwavering gaze
Tie a yellow ribbon around my neck
And let me go again
He'll never be alone, you see
For I've got hope in the kaleidoscope
Help me find this destiny line
And blast me off again!

Oh, this damned life
Screwed damned score
Rewrite this life to what I had before
Out, damned girl
That damned tour -- stop!

The music quiets as I board the nearest train
I'm done -- tired with failure -- tired with life
It's times like these I wonder what I came to New York for
And then I think of you
And I remember, for sure --

Every sad, unpaid day these walls echo of
Every Code Red, every battle
Every late train, every song
Every promise that I whispered under lights that won't come true
Every booth and every mint tea,
Every word and every tune
Everything that I did this year
Somehow leads me back to you

Because when it comes down to it...

I'd do it all the same
Just to hear your name one last time
I'd do it all the same
Just to know your name
I'll make it mine...

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082412 -- So Long

Fri, 24 Aug 2012 19:44:10 GMT

This will be the first summer in 7 years where I will be SO HAPPY for it to be done.

Goodbye, Coney Island. I'm sorry I didn't make it to you twice during the summer. Maybe I will during Labor Day weekend, if anybody wants to go with me. Maybe it won't suck. Maybe I won't throw up at Sheepshead Bay and stake out sanctuary in Dunkin' Donuts. Maybe I won't get lots of bad memories and hate myself the entire time I'm there.

Actually, let's make that a hopefully. I really like you, Coney Island. Let's not screw this up.

See you soon, Empire State Building. I wish to not hate you for the same reasons. Actually, considering the outcome of it all, I can look up at you and smile.

A bittersweet goodbye for now, Cedar Point. It's okay. I still love you. I wish I could wrap you up and give you a great big hug. You've given me so much over the years, but more than anything, you've given me two things that have stood the test of time: an identity and a missing piece. I still have both of those, and I want to thank you for that.

(And to my missing piece: who would have thought it would be you? But I digress. I ask that question about you way too often.)

Ja ne, WaHi. You're like that old friend I'll never see again, good memories, lots of late nights, sleeping over, feeling like home. But you're not home. I look out my window and wonder if I'll ever take the M96 bus again, if I'll ever arrive at that door, if I'll ever fully understand. The future is an uncertain place. Maybe someday it'll all be okay. But it's all okay now.

I will soon bid a farewell to Normandie. I really do like you. You're just too expensive for the lifestyle I want to live now.

Goodbye, the me who used to not care. Goodbye, sitting under my blanket. Goodbye, not wanting to eat food because I'm afraid I'll throw it back up. I'm trying to throw you away the best that I can. It doesn't always work, but I have a feeling it will get better.

So long to the summer that sucked.

Hello, Grand Central Terminal.

Today, I pick up Ringo and pack everything up. I shoulder my bag and get ready to go to Argo. I don't have any food in my house save for ramen noodles, but I'm kind of okay with that. When I get to Argo, maybe I'll finally sit down and figure out what I want to do with my life.

But to start with, I will go to 96th and Park and watch the trains run in and out of my city, to places I can't even begin to understand.

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0725 -- A Tri-Color Christmas in July

Thu, 26 Jul 2012 00:41:41 GMT

Irony strikes in the form of lightning; God's tears fall upon my face.

I rouse myself after a long night of dreaming of subway trains, and the city I love so much, and the night when I released my seatbelt and flew into the air. Miles away, those who are structured bear down on us. I long to release the one with iron wings, one who inspires me still. I remember the long drives, the smell of Paris in the wheels, echoes of a long-ago midnight rave woven into the platinum night. The stars shone above my heads, stellar reminders of the memories I weaved here.

Now, I weave one more.

Why?

He sleeps next to me in my bed. The mysteries of what happened haven't been unraveled yet, but I am aware I have created something way beyond myself, that my music has brought something more into existence. If I am a swan, he is a pigeon: dirty, steadfast, most of all unknown. We sit into the night and read poetry; I reach into him and find myself, in our shared experiences, our highs and lows.

Together, we unbuckle our seatbelts. Air jumps should not be used as a frequent mode of transportation, but tonight, in our city, they are enough. Times Square shines as bright as it did that April night, on a night when the lights shine as stars in a sea, and we are all little koi fish.

The world spins closer and closer to the reality I am creating, in control. I no longer hate myself. We organize a daily "penguin and pigeon dance" on Vesey Street, in which we cut loose and waddle and strut our stuff. For, as we all know, it is truly the pigeons who rule New York.

Somewhere, in the heart of it all, there is an echo, as we all are. If that echo spins again, I will answer the call. But my anticipation is right here, in the arms of my confidant, and I remember only one fact:

I miss you.

We don't quite know how many times this has happened. We don't quite how to fix it. But if we can sing in harmony again, I think we could create a rainbow of color. Would you? Can you find yourself and come back to me? And, if you do, will I need you enough for you to stay? I don't know the answer to that question just yet.

The sunlight filters through my window; I start another day. Somewhere, in this city, you are living, praying, loving, breathing. But it is all just as before: an echo.

"I thought I saw you out my window
I don't get why you left my side
Am I that clingy, that possessive --
or did you teach me what it means to ride?"

And this is the wonder that keeps the stars apart.

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