Haugr

Stephen Pimley | Abstract,Thoughts | Sunday, June 30th, 2013

I have always found the normal, accepted state of affairs in this world rather appalling. Even here, deep in my refuge, outside events are born on drafts that shatter the complacent distraction I have so sought. These rank, decaying smells stream up the wide gaps in my skull from all the despoiled, fouled things these hands have wrought over the years. An odor as distinct as any; my past come back to haunt and my legacy stained and twisted in the minds of man. I brought them laws to obey and gods to believe in, thinking I could alter their very nature itself. For a brief while my name was upheld as a means to protect and unite. A shadow beneath which the weak and poor stood fast. Since, it has blackened into war cries before slaughter, cackles of glee before the resulting rape, and even solemn judgments before execution.

Over these years I have also watched, silent and still, as once brightly dyed sacks laid on the earth before me have browned, tattered, and drifted into the dust from whence they came. Their contents have since tumbled down into one massive, glittering heap of gold and guilt from my boots all the way up to my neck. Perhaps, not quite high enough. But mostly… I see the world outside as a thick sludge sliding down every canted angle, dripping into every shadowed depression, oozing into every last fold to blanket the earth. A universal gag to suppress the last telling gasp before we twitch and shudder in submission to this rotten fate. I still remember days of living youth when I would arrive at home and attempt to shrug it off my shoulders as if it were merely somebody else’s burden. Perhaps I had just grabbed the wrong cloak from the tavern door as I hurried about on another regretful night? I truly wish I had known then how inevitable this corruption would become.

All the same, it managed to cling to me in ways I had not the means to shake and wormed it’s way deep into my thoughts. In the end I had hoped the thick lead sheathing of this longboat would be enough for some semblance of peace into eternity. For a brief time in my existence I could close my mind to the pain and death above. All my fault, all my doing. And I the wight, foolishly trusted mortal hands in the arrangements for my rest beneath. My priests have long since abandoned their duty tending my mound and supplicants. I can feel my marking stones above, fallen to their sides and crumbled into rain-worn shards. I can taste the vibrant life in the roots snaking their way downwards to chisel away at my shelter. Now even the smallest of the ever-growing cracks invite that most insidious draft to flutter about my barrow. Time is promising me that all the offers laid to rest before these withered bones are not how they are, not how they’ll last. Soon, time will offer my tortured soul one last chance to act. I know nobody will understand my cause. I know nobody will believe in my right. I can’t care about that much anymore. I know what I should do. I know what I must do. That is – once I dig my way out – once I claw my way up.

Some Day We’ll Meet Again (For the First Time)

Stephen Pimley | Friends,Illness,Thoughts | Friday, June 28th, 2013

Many years from now; if I have somehow kept from annoying you or otherwise pushing you away and we are still friends I am going to visit you. When I meet you at the door I am going to smother you in my arms and give you a hug poets will still be struggling to put into words decades later. In that brief, singular moment all of the pain and doubts will wash away and you’ll see bright and clear how life is all about these connections we make. It’s about the people we love and care about, and those that love and care about us in return. It’s about the people we protect when they need it, not for admiration or rewards, but simply because it’s the right thing to do. It’s not about labels; This is my family, these are my friends, these are just assholes I work with. It’s knowing that we are all connected to each other whether we like it or not and that every good we do becomes a ripple on the web that eventually makes its way to all the other souls on Earth. Be a light, be a healer, be a set of arms to embrace all the ones around you in comfort. Do this, and be amazed at how much sweeter the breeze smells, how much lighter your step is, and the peace that finally comes to your mind when you acknowledge you made a difference. You are the world getting better, one smile at a time.

Stephen Pimley | Friends,Random,Thoughts | Friday, June 28th, 2013

I am just a creep you talk to when no one else will pay attention to you. I am done with being cast aside the second you find something better. I’m not going to be here to fall back on when you come around again. You have forfeited your humanity and are back to just letters on a screen.

Imperfect

Stephen Pimley | Random,Thoughts | Sunday, June 23rd, 2013

If I ever fuck up and say something that upsets you so much you don’t want to talk to me anymore please don’t take from that experience something negative. Don’t think it means you are better off not sharing your feelings and secrets or trusting people just because I can be an idiot sometimes. I am just one imperfect man in a herd of seven billion imperfect souls and if there is anything that history has taught us, it’s that generalizing a mass of peoples by the actions of one always ends terribly for everyone involved.

Beautiful

Stephen Pimley | Random,Thoughts | Sunday, June 23rd, 2013

I know what you see in the mirror isn’t beautiful. I know that every compliment you hear is deflected by the voice in your head that tells you they’re wrong or lying and they just don’t know how worthless you are. I’m here to tell you that you ARE beautiful. Through our eyes, we see you as you really are. It’s going to be tough. It’s going to take you through the worst corners of your mind and back. What I can promise you is that if you open your heart to others, one day you’re going to look into that mirror and it’s going to hurt a little less than it did the day before. The next day some horrible person may call you “fat” or “ugly” or “slut”. You may fall back on your old habits and feel it was pointless to even try. You know what? That one day you felt better, no matter how little it may have been is PROOF that you can heal. You can heal one day at a time for as long as it takes, no matter how often we have to slap another layer of mortar on your foundations. Listen to the voices of all the kind and honest people in your life that see YOU in the mirror and smile back. Someday you’ll find yourself when their voices become yours and you tell yourself, “I am a beautiful and wonderful person and nobody will ever take that away from me again.”

©2013 Stephen Pimley

2013-06-11

Stephen Pimley | Daily Life,Family,Illness,Memories | Tuesday, June 11th, 2013

I will try to keep in mind our day in the hospital could have gone much worse.

Over recent weeks I had been steeling myself up into an effort to contact someone, even if a total stranger, so that I would have a friendly set of hands somewhere in the cosmos to text with. I desperately wanted a way to distract myself while I could be waiting nervously for the surgeon’s report yesterday. I cannot however shake my fears that after investing so much of myself into other people over these years it has all been for naught with the sole exception of my family. Like vapors rising into the night sky and disappearing just beyond arm’s length, all of my friends seem to melt away the second we lose sight of each other. I presume they all decide at some point they don’t need me any longer and that I’m not even worth saying goodbye to. In the end I never did contact anyone until it was too late because I didn’t have the will left on tap to summon forth the words.

One of my mother’s friends has been taking her to a Korean church lately and their pastor came to visit and pray with my mother in the waiting room. It is definitely not my thing but if it helps her feel better I guess so be it. I’m not going to deny her any comfort just because I have a completely different set of beliefs. She did start crying a little bit after that but my father and I did our best to allay her fears. At the last minute, when going over some routine questions, the surgeon and anesthetist realized her primary care doctor had only taken her off warfarin 3 days prior. They ordered a precautionary PT/INR and I held her hand while we chatted for the extra forty some minutes before the test results came back. The surgeon came back and broke the bad news that her blood wasn’t clotting fast enough and it was too dangerous to continue with the surgery. We have another date scheduled for her surgery in early July so hopefully that goes a lot smoother.

For the most part this experience just makes me iterate over the fact that any nudge one way or another in the randomness of our existence can make the difference between life and death for all of us.

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