Tuesday, April 29, 2008

just a minute

homework. sunshine. meeting. work. drive. friends. childhood dreams. concerts. late night letter writing. eight a.m. fingerprints. drive. old folks. smile. grandpa's house. sleepless nights. thinking nights. grandma's looking better, doesn't she look better? fake smiles. new friends. chaos. swallowed pride. occidentals in armchairs. drive. dusty town. baby love. grown-up love. drive. family reunions. late reminiscence. homework when the house is quiet. is she still there? wake up. more smiles. walk past the yellow room. answers to questions i didn't want to ask. brake failure. teenage ambition. uncomfortable, elaborate dinners. returning to nature. dust and lights and music and dancing. five a.m. laughter. hasty mornings. forgotten clothes. drive. rushed goodbyes. drive. bitter anticipation. home. drive. sleep on someone else's bed, just once more, just for a few minutes. drive.

Monday, April 21, 2008

degredation in numerals

I. it’s getting late and you won’t stop drinking. we’re sustained by telephone electricity and i’m afraid this is our last call. drop the pieces on cobblestone streets and smoky barstools. you say you want to forget it all but, honey, you know he’s coming back.

II. it’s getting late and it’s getting cold and i can feel you shiver through your t-shirt. i want to hold you but i know that it’s more than just a touch right now. it’s forgiveness and plaster and lets-just-forget-it-all. darling, just let me go alone tonight

III. it’s getting late and you’re changing. or maybe you’re not because you always are. prop it up with polytheistic unspecific prayers and tell me how beautiful the degradation is. it’s all for one, all for you. sweetie, how long ago did we lose you?

Friday, April 11, 2008

result of sleepless nights and beat lit

sometimes i wonder if i'll ever be good enough.
it's one of those things, you know, one of those crazy things that nobody believes but me but hey what can i say. i'm lost in these ideas of perfection, not your perfection, and suddenly i see it slipping away. i want to see the world, see the things that everyone else overlooks. i want to be the one that really understands, i want the streets and sidewalks to remember me, i want the cracks in the concrete to call me back.
i go to all these places and i never return, but i want to see them again so desperately. they're like a piece of myself that i never knew was missing. there's saxophones and spices in new orleans. there's red and orange and freedom in zion national park. there's thunder and dancing in west palm beach. there's discoveries and love in pompeii. there's ancient dreams and tear drop stone in rotenberg. there's citrus air and sunset sand in san jose. there's glass and sleeping rooftops in venice. there's underground secrets and silent gardens in london. there's twisted bedsheets and candle laments in paris. there's hinesburg parishville bar harbor chester croton on the hudson loon mountain the adirondacks the st. lawrence the atlantic rome austria sharon four corners potsdam home.
i think of these things and these places and sometimes i feel like i can't keep it all in. i miss them all and it's this weight in my chest, this weight that's telling me i can't have them all back. it's telling me some of them are gone forever, maybe they're blown away in the sandstorms, maybe they're washed away in the ocean, i can't return. and then this weight, the weight in my chest, is telling me i'm running out of time. i want to see so much more, it's not over it can't be over this can't be it. i've had so many nice things and i want so much more and who does that make me. this insatiable thing.
i think of her when i feel greedy, i think of her small room and her rosary on the doorknob. i want to tell everyone how much it hurts i want them to know what it means to me, but it's all the same to them. it's just another loss, something we all deal with. so i deal with it, because what else can i do? i hide it, i pretend i'm not dramatic, but god, sometimes i want to drive across the whole country just to have time to talk about it, talk about her, talk about me. she's me and i'm her, do you see? we're the same but she's so different and so far away now and i wonder if i can do it for her. can i fix it all, can i make up for the sadness? maybe if i try hard enough, if i live enough, she'll see me and know that i'm doing it for her. no one knows why i do these things and sometimes it hurts.
sometimes i wish i soaked t-shirt shoulders and didn't pretend. sometimes i wish i could write and let them see, let them see everything, it's all true and i hate things and love things and wish things and am more than this being, this walking talking thing. i'd talk and not worry if they were listening, just know that they cared.
they walked in and walked out and i was red dresses and smiles and they never knew. so i have this thing called pride, i can keep it in my pocket where no one can see it but i hate it actually. i don't like this thing called pride this ugly thing this face-saving fuck-up. it erodes away at me, it eats away at me and i still fight for it. it's like cigarettes or coffee or cancer. i used to take care of myself, i used to be good to myself. strange things happen when i lose the things that are important. i used to know home. i wanted to be there but now they're foreign and she's pushing us away, she's pushing us all away. like removing a sickness from her veins. we'll always be there, but she can pretend we're something else, she can pretend we're better than we really are.
sometimes i wonder if i'll ever be good enough.

Thursday, April 03, 2008

another moment of melted snow and self-discovery

We felt the rain yesterday. It's that kind of night that I want to soak in the storm, breathe it, drink it, be it. We leaned out my window last night and tasted it.
With spring finally here and the snow melting, I feel like I'm re-discovering things. There's this whole new perspective that comes with a new season in New England. I'm seeing the world, my world, again under all the gray. It's been all adopted bitterness and preoccupations with sex and processed compassion, but I'm waking up again.
Maybe it's crazy, maybe it sounds cheesy, but it's there. Small parts of myself are resurfacing and it feels so good. I guess they were lost for a long time, years maybe, but sometimes it takes a whole lot of crap to get back to where you want to be. I know there was a time when I used to feel human. I remember the girl I used to be and I've missed her.
There's love in passion and strength in independence and truth in desire. I can still feel it all underneath my skin. I'll play piano at midnight, I'll taste rain, I'll stay awake at night because I can't do anything but think about writing, I'll crave the typewriter keys and fresh paper. I'll jump in a car and drive, I'll put pins in maps, I'll whisper bedtimes stories.
This person that I used to be, she played catch in the spring, she was sweet and polite and good, she was an inspiration, she sang with kids when their worlds were broken, she had big dreams. I spent so much of my youth trying to convince people I was more than that, more than what they saw, but I've come to discover it's silly to try. I focused so much energy on that, that I've turned into a person I'm not proud of, maybe even a person I don't like.
I remember when I was happy. Not just content and living, but honestly, truthfully, happy.
It's been awhile. I'm ready to come back now.