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You can order yourself to treasure a moment, to cling tight to a feeling and never let it fade, but it's your brain, that three-pound lump of hamburger, that makes the final call.

Isaac Marion

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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Moments
Finals
Lumps
Three
Treasure
Pound
Order
Brain
Fade
Never
Feeling
Cling
Call
Tight
Moment
Fades
Hamburger
Feelings
Pounds
Lump
Makes
Final
Hamburgers

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...wanting change is step one, but step two is taking it.
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What happened to the world was gradual. I've forgotten what it actually was, but I have faint, fetal memories of what it was like. A smoldering dread that never really caught fire till there wasn't much left to burn. Each sequential step surprised us. Then one day we woke up, and everything was gone.
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Are we all just Dark Age doctors, swearing by our leeches? We crave a greater science. We want to be proven wrong.
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Here it comes. My inevitable death, ignoring me all those years when I wished for it daily, arriving only after I've decided I want to live forever.
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I want a new past,new memories, a new first handshake with love. I want to start over in every possible way.
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I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.
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Writing isn't letters on paper. It's communication. It's memory.
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What I'm saying is, when you have weight like that in your life, you have to start looking for the bigger picture or you are gonna sink.
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I wish people were willing to dig a little deeper than the surface elements of a premise before tossing one story in with another.
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I'm watching her talk. Watching her jaw move and collecting her words one by one as they spill from her lips. I don't deserve them. Her warm memories. I'd like to paint them over the bare plaster walls of my soul, but everything I paint seems to peel.
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It's a strange feeling, being so utterly surrounded by her. Her life scent is on everything. She's on me and under me and next to me. It's as if the entire room is made out of her.
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In my palm I can feel the echo of her pulse, standing in for the absense of mine.
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A month ago there was nothing on Earth I missed, enjoyed, or longed for. I knew I could lose everything and not feel anything, and I rested easy in that knowledge. But I'm growing tired of easy things.
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One mistake, one brief lapse of my new found judgement-that's all it took to unravel everything. What a massive responsibility, being a moral creature.
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Soft flesh is eaten by hard teeth.
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In my mind I am eloquent I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses.
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I want life and in all its stupid sticky rawness.
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Life only makes any sense if we can see time how God does. Past, present, and future all at once.
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There’s not really such thing as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ people, there’s just like…humanity. And it gets broken sometimes.
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It was fun, but it's over now. This is how things go.
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