Roar of trucks in transport, deliver chairs and papers, with recipients delighting or sighing heavily. What lies within the boxes - a greeting or farewell?
Everything boils down to that.
The envelopes are unopened, stacked and ready for kindling because I don't care what's in them.
I open all the wrappers - they're statements, letters, notices but I didn't care to notice that you were always pulling away.
I felt your vacant stare; your heart was in two states but I hoped I was just imaginative.
My throat is trying to stop this poison I'm ingesting but my mind manufactures it and I must be the one to take the fall for everyone's sake.
Metropolis underfoot. What lies beneath even those dwellings, the mounds of hurried construction, and the weight of their survival?
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Kafka on the Shore
"She leaves behind a damp pillow, wet with her tears. You touch the warmth with your hand and watch the sky outside gradually lighten. Far away a crow caws. The Earth slowly keeps on turning. But beyond any of those details of the real, there are dreams. And everyone's living in them."
page 300
page 300
Sunday, May 11, 2008
sixty three miles and no feet to take me.
The things I have and the things I want are sixty three miles away. I don't know how else to describe it outside of that.
The question of why put to the hundredth power.
Then multiply it over and over again.
If only mathematics could cure the question. It would sure make the boundaries of this hell clear-cut, make crystal out of thin air and close my mind into a box of right angles and the right thing to do in which dreams of being with you run slowly into the ground.
That is
(vaguely)
Me trying to say that I don't very much like living in boxes.
Also,
I miss you.
But you knew that before I typed the first character in this mess of symbols and symbolism.
None are necessary, all are cathartic.
And, in the best world of worlds, reconstructive.
The question of why put to the hundredth power.
Then multiply it over and over again.
If only mathematics could cure the question. It would sure make the boundaries of this hell clear-cut, make crystal out of thin air and close my mind into a box of right angles and the right thing to do in which dreams of being with you run slowly into the ground.
That is
(vaguely)
Me trying to say that I don't very much like living in boxes.
Also,
I miss you.
But you knew that before I typed the first character in this mess of symbols and symbolism.
None are necessary, all are cathartic.
And, in the best world of worlds, reconstructive.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Tuesday morning.
I saw the walking man again on the way to work. Mid-thirties, determined demeanor, arms swinging violently. It was the only thing that made me laugh today.
I also had a nine-round match with a junebug this morning. I was reading, gathering my thoughts before work, and the junebug baited me. I swatted it off my knee, but that was just what he came here for. It was on. I stood up, fight stance, and focused on erratic movements. He got too close too often, but he also took a few good swats with my book. He retreated.
I sat down again to read, but the second round started as soon as junebug lined up his attack. This went on for several minutes. I probably looked out of my mind. I threw in the towel finally and went in to work.
I bet he's gloating.
I also had a nine-round match with a junebug this morning. I was reading, gathering my thoughts before work, and the junebug baited me. I swatted it off my knee, but that was just what he came here for. It was on. I stood up, fight stance, and focused on erratic movements. He got too close too often, but he also took a few good swats with my book. He retreated.
I sat down again to read, but the second round started as soon as junebug lined up his attack. This went on for several minutes. I probably looked out of my mind. I threw in the towel finally and went in to work.
I bet he's gloating.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Sarasota Short Story: Strangers.
10:28 on Monday night and I'm wandering around downtown. For what reason? I don't know. I don't feel at home at my home, and I knew if I went back I couldn't sleep. I called him three times, like a pathetic withering female, expecting him to pick up. He didn't.
A man, rough with life's latest turmoils, stopped me and asked if I knew Sarasota well. I said yes, but he was asking about where all the shelters are and I didn't know anything about that. He said he had an hour to find $10 to stay at the Salvation Army because he was separated from his wife. I told him I understood his feeling of displacement and gave him what he needed. I really hope he used it to sleep somewhere safe.
I ran into three English gentlemen later on the street.
"It must be fate that we have seen you twice this evening," one said, and invited me for a drink.
The older man said that women should be treated like princesses.
"Order whatever you want."
Newcastle, french onion soup, chicken fingers.
He called, and I shortened what would have been a blubbering, too-long conversation into what was necessary in err of being vague and hung up. The strangers and I talked about buddhism, food, and divorce. We also discussed the buoyancy of watermelons and the tall man recounted a too-long nipple piercing story. It was quite interesting.
I must say, strangers make the best conversations.
A man, rough with life's latest turmoils, stopped me and asked if I knew Sarasota well. I said yes, but he was asking about where all the shelters are and I didn't know anything about that. He said he had an hour to find $10 to stay at the Salvation Army because he was separated from his wife. I told him I understood his feeling of displacement and gave him what he needed. I really hope he used it to sleep somewhere safe.
I ran into three English gentlemen later on the street.
"It must be fate that we have seen you twice this evening," one said, and invited me for a drink.
The older man said that women should be treated like princesses.
"Order whatever you want."
Newcastle, french onion soup, chicken fingers.
He called, and I shortened what would have been a blubbering, too-long conversation into what was necessary in err of being vague and hung up. The strangers and I talked about buddhism, food, and divorce. We also discussed the buoyancy of watermelons and the tall man recounted a too-long nipple piercing story. It was quite interesting.
I must say, strangers make the best conversations.
Insomnia makes me miss out on things.
Bassline: 2 measures alone
Simple drums or maracas
It's the recurring dream that just isn't enough
it's just a crazy thing my sleeping mind thinks up
i like imagining the two of us in love
at least in my dreams
We always wake up in the moonlight
When all the children are asleep
We always sleep through all the daylight
When all the folks are counting sheep
Hello hello my friend you’re always in my dreams
Riding a tricycle or building pink machines
You seem at home amongst the astronauts and doves
And all the crazy things my sleeping mind thinks up
(It might sound crazy but I picture us in love)
at least in my dreams)….
We always wake up in the moonlight
no matter what the time of day
I’m tossing turning always dreaming
To keep the stranger thoughts at bay
Hello hello my friend you’re always in my dreams
Flying a kite or picking apples in Belize
You seem at home amongst the astronauts and doves
And all the crazy things my sleeping mind thinks up
(It might sound crazy but I picture us in love)
at least in my dreams)….
I always wake up in the moonlight
When wolves run freely through the fields
I wish I could go back to dreamland
Where all the answers are revealed
Hello hello my friend you’re always in my dreams
Watching a puppet show or climbing paper trees
You seem at home amongst the astronauts and doves
And all the crazy things my sleeping mind thinks up
My one recurring dream is you and I in love
(It might sound crazy but I picture us in love)
at least in my dreams)….
Simple drums or maracas
It's the recurring dream that just isn't enough
it's just a crazy thing my sleeping mind thinks up
i like imagining the two of us in love
at least in my dreams
We always wake up in the moonlight
When all the children are asleep
We always sleep through all the daylight
When all the folks are counting sheep
Hello hello my friend you’re always in my dreams
Riding a tricycle or building pink machines
You seem at home amongst the astronauts and doves
And all the crazy things my sleeping mind thinks up
(It might sound crazy but I picture us in love)
at least in my dreams)….
We always wake up in the moonlight
no matter what the time of day
I’m tossing turning always dreaming
To keep the stranger thoughts at bay
Hello hello my friend you’re always in my dreams
Flying a kite or picking apples in Belize
You seem at home amongst the astronauts and doves
And all the crazy things my sleeping mind thinks up
(It might sound crazy but I picture us in love)
at least in my dreams)….
I always wake up in the moonlight
When wolves run freely through the fields
I wish I could go back to dreamland
Where all the answers are revealed
Hello hello my friend you’re always in my dreams
Watching a puppet show or climbing paper trees
You seem at home amongst the astronauts and doves
And all the crazy things my sleeping mind thinks up
My one recurring dream is you and I in love
(It might sound crazy but I picture us in love)
at least in my dreams)….
This sweet maiden
Was locked in a tower
Hoping for safekeeping
By the walls she grew to like after awhile
Enjoyed her prison
As it brought her solace
understanding, she knew those walls
like the back of her hand.
Alas, she was convinced to leave her respite
In search of happier experiences
She found love one day
By a minstrel that played to her window
And wanted to see the rest of the world
So she picked open all the locks
As she knew the combinations
And stepped outside into the light for the first time
Embraced by the man that lured her out.
And now,
The minstrel travels alone
and the maiden floats out to sea.
Was locked in a tower
Hoping for safekeeping
By the walls she grew to like after awhile
Enjoyed her prison
As it brought her solace
understanding, she knew those walls
like the back of her hand.
Alas, she was convinced to leave her respite
In search of happier experiences
She found love one day
By a minstrel that played to her window
And wanted to see the rest of the world
So she picked open all the locks
As she knew the combinations
And stepped outside into the light for the first time
Embraced by the man that lured her out.
And now,
The minstrel travels alone
and the maiden floats out to sea.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
