in memoriam, fragments

Memories, they define us. It hurts to think of having only memories left to us when someone is gone. It is a final state, defined against our will. It hurt me today to contemplate this love that can live only in the mind.

I hate sad songs, never knew this until now. They are a poor substitute for what we miss, a false comfort. They seem profound, but reveal themselves as charlatans on close inspection.

Tennyson:
"Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee,
and there I find him worthier to be loved."

Barthes:
"November 16th
Now, everywhere, in the street, the cafe, I see each individual under the aspect of ineluctably having-to-die, which is exactly what it means to be mortal. --And, no less obviously, I see them as not knowing this to be so."

Silence is my default mode, as it is everyone's. Why should this not be so? If there is nothing to say, silence prevails as part of a natural order.

RIP Tyler

How long, how long?

It's fall. That can't be denied anymore when you look outside. When your feet get cold just sitting around the house. When you have to put on a sweatshirt to spend any length of time outside. When the light changes. When you get that little bit of fear in the pit of your stomach, that the warm weather is gone, and who knows if it's ever coming back?

There's a smell of chill in the air, and you can foresee the real cold coming, fall can just be the forerunner of winter. The leaves will fall, the temperature will fall, and April's a long way off.

It frightens me.