Monday, June 18, 2012

tunnage: wild is the wind by nina simone.

sleep: long overdue.

today: whawhere?

-MM: so beautiful, so much much amazing. appropriate response forthcoming. my eyes are barely open.

then why are you writing?
i was friends with a child. who is no longer a child. i suppose she was friends with an almost-child-Q. if we are still friends it is no longer as children. i had to reintroduce myself. and now i remember i love the sound of fingers tapppping on keyboards and i can't seem to help myself writing more. even though i have little say that hasn't already been said.

2012: the year of falling leaves.
days so quickly, like paper being crumpled up and thrown, so quickly browned and fell and past. and gone. for better mostly, but i'm still scared of time passing. so terribly scared of it.

i have a black bow tie. a tuxedo. dance with me. slowly. in smoky rooms. say nothing. put your head on my shoulder, that will say it all.

i have had this dream before.

and you too, i have had dreams of you with me. we laugh so truthfully unicorns are born.

dear LA i miss your cloudless sky.

i miss the smell of pianos.

like mar i'm trying to buy an apartment. it is an endlessly disappointing endeavour. i am not taking to it as well as i'd have though i would.

i should sleep.

"I fear those big words, Stephen said, which make us so unhappy." <-- dear Mr Joyce, why exactly are you so many shades of amazing?

i have a new umbrella. a new blazer. charcoal woolen pants. i am a new man. no one will know, will suspect. my trojan horse has lipstick on it too. beyond cunning, it is ingenious.

god i miss you.

when the going was good we got going. or maybe just i.

does anything have a centre?

when i land i'm going to call you. you will remember we were friends, once. you will love me again. i will make you laugh. you will lie under the grand piano or walk with me down terraces after friday brunches or laugh with me on steep streets and give me scarves because you are kind. and we will all be so lucky, and know it. and we won't need words like i do, words will be unnecessary because we will never need to express missing, or empty spaces or chasms. it will be real and self-evident. like the glare of white rocks in the sun.

when i land this is.

when i land.








waiting



still.

1 comment:

Capone: said...

the center is for the finding, and not for the faint of heart...