Mar 042006

feeling melancholy. i guess that’s a given, me being me. some things never change…

i’m waiting. trying to be patient, because, really… nothing comes until it is ready… not answers, not people,….

no choice but to be patient. patient and busy. and busy i am, at work, in my spare time… busy being patient. this is nonsense. my head is swimming with images but no real words seem to come. maybe later.
recently viewed:
Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
Washington Square (hence the melancholy…)

i loved Tibby. my kind of gal

Jennifer Jason Leigh…one of the actors that makes it to a short favorites list. so under-rated.

currently listening to:
-Bruce Springsteen’s Devils & Dust cd
-Garden State film soundtrack

(hence the melancholy)

currently reading:
-Rule of Four
-waiting in the wings…is Marley and Me.

i guess there are just more colors in melancholy.

sleep is calling…

yesterday and today

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Mar 012006

february – march

it keeps going. and whether you’re dragging on your knees or have a perfect marathoner’s stride… you never do catch up to tomorrow…

but there’s always that perfect moment, that teary-eye inducing note that drives your heart to almost burst. when feathers fly like snowflakes, soft and slow…and the shy boy seizes the chance to steal a kiss from his girl.

you remember the small things, the short scenes, that seem to last forever, more powerful than the obvious. subtle and bittersweet.

it’s hot summer, humid and sweaty… the fight in the car with your dad, you move to the backseat with me. i rest my sleepyhead on your legs and we move on, a long drive home on the LIE…

a quick steal of his cadillac, and off we go…to nyc. down by the meat markets, the slaughter houses, where there is no forgiveness for live flesh and blood, just ugly buildings, potholes, and hookers… a tiny flash of life, a good hot meal, and easy access to henry hudson…pointing us back home…

shroom induced ride, trying to push away stray hairs that aren’t really there. i surrender to the garden state parkway. to strange apartments, flashy people with lovely fishtanks and mounds of weed. no worrying about jail time or police car lights flashing… only how far you are while sitting next to me…

it’s 4 am, i’m just off the F train. and it’s a long walk to the apartment. to the tiny 7 x 11 room that houses my life. my junk. and the endless notebooks filled with letters i never send to you. off with the greasy smell of a waitress uniform. off with the make me sexy red lipstick. i’m surrounded by millions. i’m alone in my little room…

in a new place, in a new age. and still. those moments bring a smile, bring up a little bit of the hurt. they are tender and strange. homeless little children, looking for a place to stay. i don’t know where you are, who you are, how you are, if you are. but in those scenes, i know you. believe in you…and love you beyond…