she's one of the antagonists to the sorrowful dreaming maidens, I suppose, or no, because then she does sorrow. after the tripping lightly down the stairs. I was going to say she was the counterbalance to the maidens in the castle, because of her self-determination, her sureness of purpose, however mean-spirited and misguided. but then again, the story has different versions, everyone's got their own sequence of events and has cast and re-cast, as desired, as necessary, all the important parts.
young man, I think you're dying, she says, and trips, light as feathers, down the stairs and out into the sunshine, greedy in her haste to be away from the pale face and the demands, the protestations of love. if I had you, he said, I'd be happy, without you I'm nothing, and she said no thank you, I can't bear the extra weight, I have my own soul to carry around and that heavy as can be with all the world pushing down on it all the time.
barbara allen hated gravity.
(I have no idea. of what this was going to be, I mean, or say. I guess this is that wild writing thing, huh. it's fun, I must admit. very freeing.)
I had originally intended to post a bit of singing. but first I have to figure out how to do that. I miss the blogger options I used to see, before this hand me down mac. but I am thankful for it. I just wish it did what I wanted it to do. you'd think the thing had a mind of its own, the way it frustrates me some days. I still haven't figured out why imovie cropped my photos.)
Saturday, January 24, 2009
well of course I'm still fixated on barbara allen.
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4 comments:
..."if I had you, he said, I'd be happy, without you I'm nothing, and she said no thank you, I can't bear the extra weight, I have my own soul to carry around "
I know that weight - to the one who isn't in love, it isn't love. It's a burden.
sometimes all love feels like a burden to me, and isn't that an awful thing to say. I'm such a cold and unloving person sometimes, it troubles me, that I can get so irritated with the people who love me and need me in various ways, for various things. sometimes everything is done so grimly, teeth gritted hard against the urge to fly away and pursue only my own desires. but that's not most of the time, most of the time the love's a welcome weight, holding me in a way that comforts rather than restrains.
Well now, I don't know. I think sometimes what we call love is really someone else's need and that can be a burdensome thing, no matter how much we care for the other. Other times that need can feel like a validation, like a kind of love. Perhaps the irritation we feel is not a lack of love but simply a need for the time to love ourselves. We cannot be all things to all the people who need us all the time. We need to fill back up. It doesn't make us unloving, simply creatures with needs of our own.
so what is love, really? sometimes I'm not sure I know. but then again, sometimes I'm sure I don't know anything, and even that I'm not sure about.
(not being sure is my current state of mind. but it's sunny and I'm going to go make prints off some of those plaster molds I've been carving, so in a short while the uncertainty of everything won't trouble me because I'll be too busy to think.)
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