On the internet, you’re not supposed to mention time. You’re supposed to act as if we live in a timeless vacuum, a tear drop suspended in a waterfall, a moment paused for the rest of existence.
Timeless vacuums are attractive. Instant classics. Silent and contemplative moments tinted with a golden hue and gilded with the pigment of our hearts. Easy to reflect upon. Distant. I don’t think they ever can hurt quite as much.
The real world isn’t timeless, though.
The real world is complicated and loud. It doesn’t just ebb and flow, but crashes and wails. It doesn’t just glimmer, it burns. Almost too hot.
It’s a hole torn into the fabric of your heart that weeps.
Here’s some raw, un-timeless, daunting information.
It had been a year since I last regularly posted updates here.
In those last twelve months my father died
It feels disingenuous to say anything more than that I suppose just as there is an art to living, there is an art to not living too.
I love you, Dad. Come back and haunt me some time.