These Precious Things

Its been a while, hasn't it? I've been buried in work it seems. Only temporary, though. And I can start to see the slightest glimmer of light at the end of this particular tunnel.

Tunnel, black with slick wet walls. Nothing behind me and a dim light ahead. Low ceiling, I can barely stand. Feels like I'm suffocating, where's the exit? A panicked need to get out, alternating with mild dispair that falls short of acceptance. That's where I've been lately, when I'm on my own.

Last night I was in the tunnel, conjured a flame, blazing bright, and saw the messages on the wall. Messages of hope, messages of anger. I am not alone.

I remember a sign I saw in SF last night: "The past is the only dead thing that smells sweet". And I think of a Tori Amos song that shifts in feeling depending on the mood I have when listening. And I feel a little more hopeful.


Precious Things
by Tori Amos

So I ran faster
But it caught me here
Yes my loyalties turned
Like my ankle
In the seventh grade
Running after Billy
Running after the rain

These precious things
Let them bleed
Let them wash away
These precious things
Let them break
Their hold on me

He said you're really an ugly girl
But I like the way you play
And I died
But I thanked him
Can you believe
That sick
Holding on to his picture
Dressing up every day
I wanna smash the faces
Of those beautiful boys
Those Christian boys
So you can make me cum
That doesn't make you Jesus

These precious things...

I remember
Yes
In my peach party dress
No one dared
No one cared
To tell me
Where the pretty girls are
Those demigods
With their nine-inch nails
And a little fascist panties
Tucked inside the heart
Of every nice girl

These precious things...