If I had a pen and paper, I’d be making a vend diagram (ven diagram, ben diagram, bend diagram? Hmm. Should have paid more attention in third grade). Maybe even two. J vs. Big. And then J vs. J.
Or maybe I’ll just make a list of all of J’s negatives. A long long list. And I’ll check it frequently. Just for a reminder.
Reasons why J and I would never ever possibly work:
1) He takes his pants off before his shirt.
2) He’s a vegetarian.
3) He doesn’t wash his clothes enough.
4) He never washes his hands.
5) He’s a slut.
6) He doesn’t clean after he cooks.
7) I don’t trust him.
8) He’ll break my heart.
9) He has STORAGE tattooed across his stomach.
10) I don’t want to live on the ark.
11) I don’t want to clean the ark.
12) He wears dirty, white, high socks.
13) He disappears for significant periods of time.
But I do like him, so maybe I should include…
Reasons why I would even want J and I to work:
1) We’re the same breed of mut: Italian, Polish, etc.
2) We look alike.
3) We’re from the same place.
4) He’s fucking charming.
5) So handsome.
6) Beautiful eyes.
7) We’d have beautiful kids.
8) If we were to hyphenate our last names, it’d be magic.
9) He’s an amazing singer.
10) We know each other.
11) We enjoy each other and make each other happy.
12) He’s the voice inside my head.
13) It’s a change to my current situation without having to start from scratch.
LUCA LUCA LUCA
- Luca Makyl
- This blog was once entitled, "unedited. uncensored. unabridged. " Despite the name change, It's still the same old shit...
i am 25 and self absorbed. i check my reflection in the windows i pass by. in the past, my blogs have been highly censored. i care too much about what other people think. this is me...shit and all.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Dear Sally-Wally,
You are one crazy motherfucker. Sorry for getting your car towed. Please don't steal my money. I think you're insane.
Friday, March 21, 2008
meet jared...
Exactly one month after I turned 18, I fell madly in love—pathetic, sappy, skip through fields of tulips bullshit. Basically, it was a boy on a boat—tattoos from head to toe—and I thought he was perfect. And we were like magnets. We couldn’t help ourselves. We even looked alike—one of those couples where people wondered if we were brother and sister or fucking. And this is Jared.
Our first kiss was on the beach and during it, the waves crashed around our ankles. It was like the shit from the movies—for about a month and a half. And then he flew to New Zealand. But he came back and surprised me for Christmas and things were good again. And then he took a job in the Caribbean. Three months later, he flew me down—I had gotten fat, but he didn’t seem to mind.
I’d cry every time he left. For days. I’d puke and I wouldn’t eat—couldn’t eat. And then one day I just stopped crying and moved on. There was some fighting in there somewhere—some cheating too, but reflecting on it all 5 years later, it seems as if he just vanished from my life at the snap of a finger.
After we broke up, we didn’t speak for months—probably about nine. And after that, we spoke about twice a year. And that continued for four years. And I guess that takes us to the present.
We’ve seen each other twice in the past week and a half. The first time in five years. The feelings are still there—and that magnetic pull that has been there forever. We look alike, talk alike. I feel like we come from the same place: divorced parents, bumfuck Connecticut, no money, big dreams, yada yada. I still love him.
He’s asked me to leave Sydney and move to PT with him. I don’t know if I’m considering it. Every wish for two and a half years involved him—us getting back together and such. And now it’s like all of those wishes are coming true and I’m wishing they weren’t. I don’t know what I want. Possibly a break. A break from everyone—head off on my own for a while. I don’t remember what it’s like to be single. I just move from one to the next.
Emotionally intense night. Too much wine and too much touching (for a girl in a magnificent relationship). Sigh.
Our first kiss was on the beach and during it, the waves crashed around our ankles. It was like the shit from the movies—for about a month and a half. And then he flew to New Zealand. But he came back and surprised me for Christmas and things were good again. And then he took a job in the Caribbean. Three months later, he flew me down—I had gotten fat, but he didn’t seem to mind.
I’d cry every time he left. For days. I’d puke and I wouldn’t eat—couldn’t eat. And then one day I just stopped crying and moved on. There was some fighting in there somewhere—some cheating too, but reflecting on it all 5 years later, it seems as if he just vanished from my life at the snap of a finger.
After we broke up, we didn’t speak for months—probably about nine. And after that, we spoke about twice a year. And that continued for four years. And I guess that takes us to the present.
We’ve seen each other twice in the past week and a half. The first time in five years. The feelings are still there—and that magnetic pull that has been there forever. We look alike, talk alike. I feel like we come from the same place: divorced parents, bumfuck Connecticut, no money, big dreams, yada yada. I still love him.
He’s asked me to leave Sydney and move to PT with him. I don’t know if I’m considering it. Every wish for two and a half years involved him—us getting back together and such. And now it’s like all of those wishes are coming true and I’m wishing they weren’t. I don’t know what I want. Possibly a break. A break from everyone—head off on my own for a while. I don’t remember what it’s like to be single. I just move from one to the next.
Emotionally intense night. Too much wine and too much touching (for a girl in a magnificent relationship). Sigh.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
in today's inbox...
"so seeing you was pretty fucking amazing. so much shit came rushing back... memories, feelings,.... well, i told you i still love you. i mean it. never stopped. i know you are with someone, and you are happy. i shouldnt say these things to you. but soon youll leave, ill leave and maybe this chance meeting will seem like it never happened. i never stopped wondering... never stopped thinking of you. today made me realize why. anyhow. i hope i can make it to see you tomorrow. its late and i cant stop thinking about you and how i felt today. yours, jared"
Dear Blog,
I’m sorry for sucking ass and never writing. Here’s an update:
My gram was sick, so I left AUS on the 16th of February.
She died on Februay 20th (the lunar eclipse).
My family decided (sans research) that my grampa would go to the VA hospital in Bennington.
They soon realized the joint was a dive, but were stuck, because other options hadn’t been considered.
I stepped in, volunteered a month of my time to watch my grampa in bumfuck VT, while my family looked into other options for care.
So that’s where I am and what I’m doing.
Exciting bits in this stretch of boredom include:
“Free Time Wednesdays”: A recess equivalent where my uncle comes to relieve me of my duties around 2p and sends me out into the world. I only have a few hours, so I don’t go far. I’ve been to Glenn’s Falls, Granville, and Bennington. I really woop it up.
“Vigil Sundays”: Another recess day where my uncle takes my grampa to Manchester for anti-war demonstrating. I have a few hours to do whatever I want. Wild.
I visited my friend Kyle at Bennington College. We hadn’t seen each other in six years, but it felt like six hours. It was awesome. Short-lived, but awesome. I had a burger and an iced tea. He had a burger and a Guinness.
I saw J yesterday. I haven’t fully formulated my thoughts on the matter, but I guess I can wing it…
Though completely indifferent as to whether or not I saw him while he was visiting his brother, it was great seeing him and I had a blast. We ragged on each other a bunch ad fell into five years ago very naturally. Almost too naturally. He asked me to move out to PT with him, help finish up his boat, and then sail around with him until kingdom come. I declined, and immediately REO Speedwagon came on the radio (and yes, he still has the tape of me singing “Take it on the Run” from 2003). So we laughed for a little while. The evening ended with me having to kick him out of the car after a heated goodbye and J telling me that he wasn’t kidding about the whole “Luca and J together forever” thing. Sigh. He’s coming over today. (and just so we’re all clear here, I made it shockingly clear that I am insanely happy in AUS with S.)
I’m sorry for sucking ass and never writing. Here’s an update:
My gram was sick, so I left AUS on the 16th of February.
She died on Februay 20th (the lunar eclipse).
My family decided (sans research) that my grampa would go to the VA hospital in Bennington.
They soon realized the joint was a dive, but were stuck, because other options hadn’t been considered.
I stepped in, volunteered a month of my time to watch my grampa in bumfuck VT, while my family looked into other options for care.
So that’s where I am and what I’m doing.
Exciting bits in this stretch of boredom include:
“Free Time Wednesdays”: A recess equivalent where my uncle comes to relieve me of my duties around 2p and sends me out into the world. I only have a few hours, so I don’t go far. I’ve been to Glenn’s Falls, Granville, and Bennington. I really woop it up.
“Vigil Sundays”: Another recess day where my uncle takes my grampa to Manchester for anti-war demonstrating. I have a few hours to do whatever I want. Wild.
I visited my friend Kyle at Bennington College. We hadn’t seen each other in six years, but it felt like six hours. It was awesome. Short-lived, but awesome. I had a burger and an iced tea. He had a burger and a Guinness.
I saw J yesterday. I haven’t fully formulated my thoughts on the matter, but I guess I can wing it…
Though completely indifferent as to whether or not I saw him while he was visiting his brother, it was great seeing him and I had a blast. We ragged on each other a bunch ad fell into five years ago very naturally. Almost too naturally. He asked me to move out to PT with him, help finish up his boat, and then sail around with him until kingdom come. I declined, and immediately REO Speedwagon came on the radio (and yes, he still has the tape of me singing “Take it on the Run” from 2003). So we laughed for a little while. The evening ended with me having to kick him out of the car after a heated goodbye and J telling me that he wasn’t kidding about the whole “Luca and J together forever” thing. Sigh. He’s coming over today. (and just so we’re all clear here, I made it shockingly clear that I am insanely happy in AUS with S.)
i love spending time in vermont in the dead of winter and freezing my ass off...
I’m in Vermont and freezing. When I woke up, my grampa asked me to check the thermometer.
“Negative eight.”
“Negative eight? What does that mean? You mean eight below?”
“Yeah, eight below. Negative eight.”
“Negative eight. Did you make that up? Did you hear that on the weather channel?”
“I dunno. It’s not positive, so it’s negative. Negative eight. Eight below.”
Ten minutes later he shuffles into the kitchen. Normally, I associate shuffling with a fast pace, but in this case of shuffling it’s extremely slow. I use “shuffling”, because of the sound it makes when he walks not because of the movement itself. His feet never really leave the ground—just skid across the carpet, which is too cushy and often trips him. He’s in the kitchen now and fiddling around with stuff that doesn’t need fiddling with. Life would be easier if he stayed in one place. My life anyway.
“For Pete’s sake, can’t you read a thermometer? It’s twenty below.”
“It’s negative eight. This line is for ten.”
“Let me see. Oh, you’re right.”
He shuffles back to the table.
He has all of these rules that I need to follow when I’m here. Ridiculous things that serve no purpose other than to give him a bit of control. I think at this age, he feels helpless and is humiliated by the fact that he constantly needs someone around, so he makes up these rules to have a little power.
1) The colored plastic cups are his. He washes them himself and they do not go in the dishwasher. They stay on the counter.
2) The blue chair and the green chair are his. If you want to sit in the living room, sit on the green couch, the blue couch, or in the white chair.
3) He only eats with a soupspoon. NOT A TEASPOON.
4) The blue towels are his. Do not touch them.
“Negative eight.”
“Negative eight? What does that mean? You mean eight below?”
“Yeah, eight below. Negative eight.”
“Negative eight. Did you make that up? Did you hear that on the weather channel?”
“I dunno. It’s not positive, so it’s negative. Negative eight. Eight below.”
Ten minutes later he shuffles into the kitchen. Normally, I associate shuffling with a fast pace, but in this case of shuffling it’s extremely slow. I use “shuffling”, because of the sound it makes when he walks not because of the movement itself. His feet never really leave the ground—just skid across the carpet, which is too cushy and often trips him. He’s in the kitchen now and fiddling around with stuff that doesn’t need fiddling with. Life would be easier if he stayed in one place. My life anyway.
“For Pete’s sake, can’t you read a thermometer? It’s twenty below.”
“It’s negative eight. This line is for ten.”
“Let me see. Oh, you’re right.”
He shuffles back to the table.
He has all of these rules that I need to follow when I’m here. Ridiculous things that serve no purpose other than to give him a bit of control. I think at this age, he feels helpless and is humiliated by the fact that he constantly needs someone around, so he makes up these rules to have a little power.
1) The colored plastic cups are his. He washes them himself and they do not go in the dishwasher. They stay on the counter.
2) The blue chair and the green chair are his. If you want to sit in the living room, sit on the green couch, the blue couch, or in the white chair.
3) He only eats with a soupspoon. NOT A TEASPOON.
4) The blue towels are his. Do not touch them.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Likes...
1) capers
2) dancing
3)dennis kucinich sailing
4)sailing dennis kucinich
5) old cars (including early 80s)
6) free __________
7) wood stoves
8) decorating
9) writing
10) tennis
11) candle lit dinners
12) spirituality
13) optimism
14) organization
15) collage
16) day dreaming
17) intention
2) dancing
3)
4)
5) old cars (including early 80s)
6) free __________
7) wood stoves
8) decorating
9) writing
10) tennis
11) candle lit dinners
12) spirituality
13) optimism
14) organization
15) collage
16) day dreaming
17) intention
Dislikes...
1) anchovies maggots
2) lies
3)maggots zoe
4) dish water
5) drain hair
6)zoe anchovies
7) people who talk about their drug habits
8) working when other people aren't
9) george bush
10) monsanto
11) inefficiency and waste
12) cramps
13) skipping DVDs
14) debt
15) mosquitos
16) seaweed grabbing at my ankles
17) organized religion
2) lies
3)
4) dish water
5) drain hair
6)
7) people who talk about their drug habits
8) working when other people aren't
9) george bush
10) monsanto
11) inefficiency and waste
12) cramps
13) skipping DVDs
14) debt
15) mosquitos
16) seaweed grabbing at my ankles
17) organized religion
Monday, February 4, 2008
i woke up at 8:22 and realized you hadn't landed yet.
lay awake for a while—excited and nervous.
thinking maybe you'd call, but then figured you wouldn't want to wake me.
decided to write some poetry or my equivalent thereof.
decided to write you a love letter.
i don't really know how i feel about love letters.
Especially mine, but maybe I should start putting myself out there.
i dreamt of hundreds of men last night. i was making them sandwiches.
i don't really know what that means.
i was in my prom date's suburban development. and i was trapped there.
i don't really know what that means either.
i don't think you were in it, but there was this consuming emptiness that i couldn't shake.
maybe you were in it after all.
I don’t like missing you. Please stick around.
the phone rang at 9:32 and i dove for it.
threw myself over the partially made bed.
that may be the only acceptable part of you being away.
The fact that I only have to make half of the bed.
But I’d much rather have you around.
It’s a little too sterile without you. and I think part of me really enjoys stale food.
And your company.
I miss watching you over at your computer in the morning.
Wondering if you’re chatting with other girls.
Older, more experienced—better qualified.
But hoping you’re following stocks instead.
Surrounded by various dirty cereal bowls and coffee mugs.
Hating your green roseway shirt enough to actually like it.
Like you. Enough to make me nervous most of the time.
Nervous like when we first started dating.
When you, just starting to doze off, would start your erratic breathing.
And I was convinced you had some chronic disorder and wouldn’t make it through the night.
or after not seeing you for a month.
Wondering if you’d still be attracted to me, still love me.
And I love you.
I always have.
And i hate putting myself on display.
Writing for other people. To be judged by them.
And I think I hate love letters.
Tucked away waiting to be found and read and reread.
Maybe my handwriting (that you haven’t seen much of) will hide it from you.
And maybe you’ll throw this one away.
Because I don’t want to be just another girl who once wrote you a love letter that you once tucked away in a drawer somewhere. 10:12.
lay awake for a while—excited and nervous.
thinking maybe you'd call, but then figured you wouldn't want to wake me.
decided to write some poetry or my equivalent thereof.
decided to write you a love letter.
i don't really know how i feel about love letters.
Especially mine, but maybe I should start putting myself out there.
i dreamt of hundreds of men last night. i was making them sandwiches.
i don't really know what that means.
i was in my prom date's suburban development. and i was trapped there.
i don't really know what that means either.
i don't think you were in it, but there was this consuming emptiness that i couldn't shake.
maybe you were in it after all.
I don’t like missing you. Please stick around.
the phone rang at 9:32 and i dove for it.
threw myself over the partially made bed.
that may be the only acceptable part of you being away.
The fact that I only have to make half of the bed.
But I’d much rather have you around.
It’s a little too sterile without you. and I think part of me really enjoys stale food.
And your company.
I miss watching you over at your computer in the morning.
Wondering if you’re chatting with other girls.
Older, more experienced—better qualified.
But hoping you’re following stocks instead.
Surrounded by various dirty cereal bowls and coffee mugs.
Hating your green roseway shirt enough to actually like it.
Like you. Enough to make me nervous most of the time.
Nervous like when we first started dating.
When you, just starting to doze off, would start your erratic breathing.
And I was convinced you had some chronic disorder and wouldn’t make it through the night.
or after not seeing you for a month.
Wondering if you’d still be attracted to me, still love me.
And I love you.
I always have.
And i hate putting myself on display.
Writing for other people. To be judged by them.
And I think I hate love letters.
Tucked away waiting to be found and read and reread.
Maybe my handwriting (that you haven’t seen much of) will hide it from you.
And maybe you’ll throw this one away.
Because I don’t want to be just another girl who once wrote you a love letter that you once tucked away in a drawer somewhere. 10:12.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
i have a really strong urge to smoke. it's really strange, because i haven't in a while. well, it's been a month, but that's not what i mean. it's been years since i've smoked regularly. five since i quit.
i remember the first day of freshman orientation. the first person i met, standing there in line waiting for all of those damn papers, was katie. i decided that her and i were going to be great friends. we weren't. my mom was with me and i didn't feel dorky about it, because i, without a doubt, had the coolest mom there. i think she was even mistaken for a student. i watched all of the kids go through the line, get their dictionary's worth of forms—student schedules, various medical forms, surveys, the works. and then it was my turn. i had spent the day rolling my eyes at all of it and this stupid line wasn't any different. student schedule—check. med forms—check. and then there was this one yellow form...
"ms. makyl, this form needs to be turned in before the first day of classes. it just says you consent to random drug testing."
FUCK.
my mom just cut me this glance like, "you little shit, you've totally blown this." i just stopped dead and looked at her waiting for her to fix it. pull clean pee out of purse. something. anything. and because i had just been taking forms and rolling my eyes—just going through the motions, i hadn't even heard anything besides "DRUG TESTING". i don't know what i thought—maybe that at the end of the form tables was a pee station—that i was getting booted right then and there.
FUCK.
and i guess that's the day i quit. i hadn't planned on it or really even considered stopping and then "kabaam". fucking yellow form.
i remember the first day of freshman orientation. the first person i met, standing there in line waiting for all of those damn papers, was katie. i decided that her and i were going to be great friends. we weren't. my mom was with me and i didn't feel dorky about it, because i, without a doubt, had the coolest mom there. i think she was even mistaken for a student. i watched all of the kids go through the line, get their dictionary's worth of forms—student schedules, various medical forms, surveys, the works. and then it was my turn. i had spent the day rolling my eyes at all of it and this stupid line wasn't any different. student schedule—check. med forms—check. and then there was this one yellow form...
"ms. makyl, this form needs to be turned in before the first day of classes. it just says you consent to random drug testing."
FUCK.
my mom just cut me this glance like, "you little shit, you've totally blown this." i just stopped dead and looked at her waiting for her to fix it. pull clean pee out of purse. something. anything. and because i had just been taking forms and rolling my eyes—just going through the motions, i hadn't even heard anything besides "DRUG TESTING". i don't know what i thought—maybe that at the end of the form tables was a pee station—that i was getting booted right then and there.
FUCK.
and i guess that's the day i quit. i hadn't planned on it or really even considered stopping and then "kabaam". fucking yellow form.
and maybe this is the love letter i should have given you years ago,
but never took the time to write it all out. figuring you'd always be around.
strong and stable and committed.
and i took you for granted. and you knew it. and you let me.
and i walked all over you. and you knew it.
i became a joke to you. you rolled your eyes with every new adventure.
and then i dicked you around. used you. and you knew it.
i wanted to change. just couldn't.
i called you on your birthday. to give you something to cling to.
a reason to wait for me. and you did. for so long.
and maybe you still are. and i'm sorry.
i miss the drives. the routine. even the weather that i pretended to hate.
the gifts you'd bring. coffees in the morning, because you knew i wouldn't have time.
or money. and the money you gave. so much. and i inhaled it.
i loved the dinners. looking at you over candles.
shadows on your face. your eyes so sunken. and you loved me so much.
and i was mean. cruel, heartless. would say the meanest things i could muster.
and sometimes you'd cry. and i never apologized, because i was always right.
but i'm apologizing now. and i miss you so much.
maybe this permanent lump in my throat is for you.
a constant reminder of how i've hurt you. used you.
and shit, i miss you. i miss you so much.
but never took the time to write it all out. figuring you'd always be around.
strong and stable and committed.
and i took you for granted. and you knew it. and you let me.
and i walked all over you. and you knew it.
i became a joke to you. you rolled your eyes with every new adventure.
and then i dicked you around. used you. and you knew it.
i wanted to change. just couldn't.
i called you on your birthday. to give you something to cling to.
a reason to wait for me. and you did. for so long.
and maybe you still are. and i'm sorry.
i miss the drives. the routine. even the weather that i pretended to hate.
the gifts you'd bring. coffees in the morning, because you knew i wouldn't have time.
or money. and the money you gave. so much. and i inhaled it.
i loved the dinners. looking at you over candles.
shadows on your face. your eyes so sunken. and you loved me so much.
and i was mean. cruel, heartless. would say the meanest things i could muster.
and sometimes you'd cry. and i never apologized, because i was always right.
but i'm apologizing now. and i miss you so much.
maybe this permanent lump in my throat is for you.
a constant reminder of how i've hurt you. used you.
and shit, i miss you. i miss you so much.
Friday, February 1, 2008
why do we keep love letters?
i found some today. i wasn't even snooping. love letters to big.
i keep them too. some of them. but i don't know why.
do we secretly want someone to find them?
make others jealous by showing how much we were loved?
or are they for ourselves to remember how much we were loved?
do we plant them so they'll be found when we're least expecting it?
create some unnecessary drama for a brief second,
tuck them away in a new semi-concealed place, and then just wait for them to be discovered again.
can we not let go? see, i don't think we keep them for ourselves.
do we ever go back and read them?
i think we keep them for others. to prove something. but i don't know what.
maybe to say, "hey, look, i'm a good catch. and others think so too."
or maybe to live in a past, happier time and place.
i don't even know where my old love letters are.
and if i did, would i throw them away?
i'm assuming they're in the attic in connecticut.
tucked into various boxes with pictures and old baseball tees.
maybe i'm saving them for my memoir, for my grandkids, for myself for when i'm too old to remember.
maybe to show moments of happiness in relationships of chaos.
to deceive others. to deceive myself.
anyway, i was just thinking about it. love letters. and why we keep them.
i found some today. i wasn't even snooping. love letters to big.
i keep them too. some of them. but i don't know why.
do we secretly want someone to find them?
make others jealous by showing how much we were loved?
or are they for ourselves to remember how much we were loved?
do we plant them so they'll be found when we're least expecting it?
create some unnecessary drama for a brief second,
tuck them away in a new semi-concealed place, and then just wait for them to be discovered again.
can we not let go? see, i don't think we keep them for ourselves.
do we ever go back and read them?
i think we keep them for others. to prove something. but i don't know what.
maybe to say, "hey, look, i'm a good catch. and others think so too."
or maybe to live in a past, happier time and place.
i don't even know where my old love letters are.
and if i did, would i throw them away?
i'm assuming they're in the attic in connecticut.
tucked into various boxes with pictures and old baseball tees.
maybe i'm saving them for my memoir, for my grandkids, for myself for when i'm too old to remember.
maybe to show moments of happiness in relationships of chaos.
to deceive others. to deceive myself.
anyway, i was just thinking about it. love letters. and why we keep them.
i woke up too early and drove through the city
it was raining and the windows wouldn't defog
i thought about my catch twenty-two life
and went in circles for over an hour
made too many left turns, left turns
and pressed too many buttons on the radio
to the point where the static was still there
just at a lower volume
i had to have crossed oxford street a thousand times
never able to make the necessary turn
so close, but so far
more lost than if i'd never been here before
familiar landmarks, but not knowing how it all pieced together
circle after circle after circle
it's a miracle i'm still alive
not starving to death, or smashed in an alley
driver touch the yellow line
touch the yellow line, touch the yellow line
maybe it's not yellow here and that's why i am so confused
so confused, so confused
but it was dark and it was raining
and then wand-waving magically, i was home
and i slept for hours, many hours
exhausted from my circles in the rain
it was raining and the windows wouldn't defog
i thought about my catch twenty-two life
and went in circles for over an hour
made too many left turns, left turns
and pressed too many buttons on the radio
to the point where the static was still there
just at a lower volume
i had to have crossed oxford street a thousand times
never able to make the necessary turn
so close, but so far
more lost than if i'd never been here before
familiar landmarks, but not knowing how it all pieced together
circle after circle after circle
it's a miracle i'm still alive
not starving to death, or smashed in an alley
driver touch the yellow line
touch the yellow line, touch the yellow line
maybe it's not yellow here and that's why i am so confused
so confused, so confused
but it was dark and it was raining
and then wand-waving magically, i was home
and i slept for hours, many hours
exhausted from my circles in the rain
Saturday, January 19, 2008
and this is what makes me homesick...
hi rat
hi mama rat
hi girly rat
big fat sally rat
little skinny caitlin rat eyes
hi mama rat
hi girly rat
big fat sally rat
little skinny caitlin rat eyes
Thursday, January 17, 2008
a very gray day...
I'm sitting on my milo-colored couch in roughly the same position as I have for the past three days. And though I choose not to, I am physically able to remove myself from this life-sucking nest and this is what sets today apart from the past two. I’m overwhelmed by a consuming boredom that makes me think of Keri. I look out to the ocean and hope for a calming peace, but find only sorrow.
A gray sky, meeting a gray sea, and the lack of a notable horizon as though there is no beginning, no end, and no purpose.
I am not sad, angry, frustrated. Not happy, enthusiastic, or even content. I think I could die right now and, if given the chance to reflect on it, I don’t think I’d be fazed. I don’t care enough to do myself in and I don’t want to exert the energy.
So I just sit here and deepen the indentation in the couch, take in the stillness of the room, listen to the crashing waves, watch the flies buzzing aimlessly, watch the trees sway dully in the breeze, and feel empty.
The gray seems to be consuming everything—the green of the trees, the brown cliff face, this room, and my head. And, I’m pretty sure that soon, it’ll all be one large mass of gray that will simply be eaten by this life-sucking couch.
A gray sky, meeting a gray sea, and the lack of a notable horizon as though there is no beginning, no end, and no purpose.
I am not sad, angry, frustrated. Not happy, enthusiastic, or even content. I think I could die right now and, if given the chance to reflect on it, I don’t think I’d be fazed. I don’t care enough to do myself in and I don’t want to exert the energy.
So I just sit here and deepen the indentation in the couch, take in the stillness of the room, listen to the crashing waves, watch the flies buzzing aimlessly, watch the trees sway dully in the breeze, and feel empty.
The gray seems to be consuming everything—the green of the trees, the brown cliff face, this room, and my head. And, I’m pretty sure that soon, it’ll all be one large mass of gray that will simply be eaten by this life-sucking couch.
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