lost my dog of over 18 years yesterday. i was there when he breathed his final breath. i gave him a kiss, but had no words of wisdom to impart. we've already said everything that could be said to each other.
“Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives. Yet, if they find warmth therein, who would grudge them those years that they have so guarded? Nothing else of us can they take to lie upon with outstretched paws and chin pressed to the ground; and, whatever they take, be sure they have deserved.”― John Galsworthy
finally occurred to me i was just a bad influence. maybe i'm everyone's bad influence. maybe i was put here to teach everyone a lesson. and that lesson is to move on.. from me. apparently.
there's no difference between my nightmares and reality now. i wake up alone, dream alone, live alone. and that is my fate.
for a day, my world was full of everyone's favorite soundgarden songs. i didn't share mine at the time. death is a terrible, personal journey, and while some people like to share to cope, it's all smoke and mirrors to hide the fear of the reality of isolation inherent in separating from the warm hug of humanity.
i first listened to soundgarden on the radio on an hour long rock show before badmotorfinger broke, and i remember going into 8th grade trying to convince people that this shrill, high octaved vocalist was the best voice i'd ever heard. he sang like i sang, but it actually sounded good.
it was one of the few bands where i really, truly, honest to god, felt like i loved before they'd reached fame and fortune. and it always made soundgarden special.
for my part, my favorite soundgarden song ended up being "boot camp", the final track off "down on the upside".
he penned many meaningful lyrics over the course of his life, but "there must be something else, there must be something good, far away, far away from here" is untouched.
Just awoke from a dream where I'm cycling down the street to the sound of fiona apple's "never is a promise" with a trailer attached and two children riding in the back. M, and a little boy I'll never get to know. Maybe one of the most deeply profound and sad dreams I've ever had.
