on phone lines and letterhead.

a voicemail from sunday night. paraphrased...

(my dad) "i talked to your sister. she told me you were moving. to brooklyn. i hope a tree grows there for you. good luck. see you in a couple weeks when i'm down there. i love you. call me back tonight or i'll call you tomorrow."

i just searched for the cover of "a tree grows in brooklyn" but got "the giving tree" as well. a favorite book of mine growing up. my next thing will be searching strand for books i loved during childhood. "where the red fern grows", "a wrinkle in time", "the wish giver", "a separate peace", "the monster at the end of this book". somehow the latter negates the whole list. oh well.

currently living like a college kid, bed surrounded by books, magazines, photo albums. tearing it all down to build it back up stronger. looking for answers in polaroids, old journals, emails printed from a defunct address. finding myself in relics from the past. not that she was ever lost...but it's nice to know i've always had these kinds of thoughts. a continuity of my former selves. progression, not regression. 

5 hours late for this post. i blame the gym, my new friend who's wise beyond her years, bad decision making skills, too much wild ginger. not in that order. 

my ipod seemed haunted on the L train today. i looked up at an ad that read "the whole truth", just as the voice in my earbuds sang "the whole truth...and nothing but the truth". freaked me out. 

later, once again on shuffle, it happened. same song. different train. i look down and the person seated next to where i'm standing is reading the post. same line. "the whole truth". i look down during it at the paper and the headline is "con ed must tell us the whole truth". 

stone cold sober. high on gym endorphins. running on pure adrenaline. can't see any logic in this. and i routinely skip this whole record. 

ipods as intelligent design? i keep using shuffle mode. and i have a few thousand songs. one day, two different times, same song, same signs. too much.

i'm great at compartmentalizing. my friends who are in bands i like are just my friends. the band thing never comes up. i don't let it. there's a disconnect. i can watch and be the same as the 18 year old next to me with no clue. which is odd, since i came up at a time when you could buy a shirt from the singer of the band after their set. 

to know the voice singing to me, to be on the train to meet up with the most important person in his life when this happens. i am all at once so curious for his take on it, (which i know well from many late night conversations about life and love. and it's tattooed on him.), but i know so well that he hates talking about the band unless it's with the band. do i dare? 

on the L to a house of answers. a place of believers. seeking. i hesitate to bring up the train incident. but they know the tip of the iceberg of what i've been dealing with lately. i figure i have nothing to lose except getting laughed at or eyes rolled at me. 

but there was no laughing or rolling. just validation. "it is possible. we've had it happen. who do you think is trying to tell you something? what do you make of the message?" 

great! just what i need right now. a few more things to ponder...

the truth. it sets you free. it is stranger than fiction. 

it is subjective. my truth is not your truth. 

-mjm

"honesty is not synonymous with truth." 

post-script...

"and i came away with a different point of view,

and i think about him, now and then,

every time i try and every time i win"

for that guy who's name is 3 letters away from mine. 

my all-time favorite rebel.