dear sammy blue eyes,
i miss you- but i want you to know, i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart). i can’t wait to give you a hug! enjoy st. augustine.
i miss you- but i want you to know, i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart). i can’t wait to give you a hug! enjoy st. augustine.
nice & angsty
do i spy a common
mother-effing theme amongst these photos?
i think so. oh & apologies for blogging so much, but im about to go on hiatus. so be grateful.
well, i suppose all i have to say is that i do love attending weddings. and that’s what i’m doing today & tomorrow. its so touching how happy people are, and how fun they tend to be. weddings in cambridge are especially endearing.
i wish my cousin laura and her fiance mike the best and all the love in the world!
although at this rate, i wish i did
i wish i knew how to play the accordian
and i wish i could sleep late daily
& i wish for once that someone reciprocates
it’d be nice if i could be as wise as marx.
maybe true love isn’t dead, but all i can say, is that if it does happen to exist, i’d love some hardcore proof. or else for the rest of my life, i suppose all i’ll know about true love is that its idea makes a pretty good song.
tandem bikes listen to that by the LK.
here i am. in north carolina. for the first time. ever. unless a trip to the charlotte airport counts, although, i highly doubt that it truly does. yesterday was a long day of travel, tons of delays and bumpy skies and busy roads. but all in all, i got to durham/chapel hill an hour later than expected, in one piece. M was at her trackmeet, but i didn’t see her throw because i was late. late. late. i suppose that should have been assumed in the first place, but what is done, is done. chick-fil-a (still can’t get over the spelling… i suppose new englanders want to add that filet in instead of the fil-a…) filled our stomachs, and i slept a good sleep, all until i was woke up early this morning to visit DA. it was a school, and that was my very impression. my only impression too. sure schools tend to differ in material, but all have the same sense of an educational establishment which one becomes familiarized with over the course of their 13 years in public edu. or private, or what have you. anyway, i read outside for sometime- something i rarely have the chance to do in maine, and that made me happy. then we ventured to a thai cafe and to m’s infamous lo-yo and we had a superb time talking. all this “update” writing is making me feel out of place. seeing as i’m currently reading catcher in the rye for the thousandth time, i feel like holden, and i am viewing everything as “phony”. its unfortunate, yeah? anyway…
o, how i’d love a party like the above. summertime is approaching! m, annie, and i will drive to the coast and eat strawberries and blackberries, and dance to k’naan and tunng and all the good summer music. we’ll eat oranges and sip tea on the maine state pier at 5am, and we’ll build forts and go on bike rides, and take many many photos. i’m really counting on the upcoming season of liberty to be the best one yet- seeing as last year’s sucked so bad. see my nice inclusion of slang? anyway, ive sent out good energy to the deities of summer to ensure that the three of us have the best vacation of our lives thus far. parties, and friends (if we need them) and lunches and brunches and movies and music all the way.
oh hi enfin, you are as BA as its been rumored.
memoria teneo, as i have mentioned in a previous post, did in fact happen- hence the proof, first of two photos. the second, is a quaint little rue en quebec, where i found this market that four young boys in their 20s with lots of tattoos and gauges worked in. they sold me a baguette and i played fetch with their golden retriever for a brief moment until i ran up the road to get a good shot of the chateau on my trusty ricoh. i miss quebec, but i like the south too! we’re planning an allnighter (which i can say is overdue) and a fortification and perhaps a picnic and a trip to some of m’s most mentionable places en durham/c.hill/raleigh or i think i will refer to current location as RDU just like their airport. it will be nice to visit cambridge on sunday however, i haven’t visited since… february? i don’t recall any travels in march, however, it is entirely possible. a mixed tape is coming when i get back in the 617 or 207, depending on my mood and how i budget my time. i’m switching between, the crying of lot 49, V, How to Write Compelling Fiction- which i must add is quite delicious- and catcher in the rye (boring).
stupid couple is so stupidly cute.
i’m so happy that the spring has finally graced us.
i had this discussion last evening that shed a lot of life in my values and my main concerns. i’ve known for quite sometime that i have anxiety, and initially it was thought to have stemmed from the tragedy that happened this past summer. deep down, i’ve known its been around for quite some time prior to this past summer, but i was talking with a about death, and life and everything. and i used to be terrified of death- i’ve always respected it though. but anyway, while we were discussing what the cycle of life, this chill took over my body, i just started shaking uncontrollably because its so difficult to fathom that one day you can be sitting in your cubicle, and the next day you’re gone from this planet. or so we know at this point. its amazing to think that we’re living our lives just to die. i know that’s sort of a cynical way of thinking about it, but we’ll all end up in the same place at some time or another- yeah? we live for what, a guestimate of 75 years just to die. think about the people who lived 200 years ago. its been probably 125 years since they were alive. talk about some rest.
i’ve always tried to appreciate every day i survive, but sometimes its difficult for me to do so. but with all these thoughts surrounding death, and tragedy and loss, i suppose you should count your hens and show some thanks. you’ll never know when your time will be up, and i know that sounds rather cliche coming out of my mouth but the last time i really thought about death, the last time i got nervous for my own death was when i was at least ten years old driving home from poland springs. i remember how nervous i got, how i began to cry, because when you think about it, death’s emotional. you leave your earth body. but do you go anywhere afterwards? we all hope we do. but how can we be sure? we can’t. that’s the beauty of death and life… its all a mystery, and you just have to accept it.
another thing i was thinking about was what it feels like just before you die. does it hurt? im sure for some…yes. but ive always imagined it feels like a knot sinking deep into your stomach and you have your final exhale where you can clearly feel the knot present, but after a good couple of seconds, it slowly starts to disappear. during this time i also expect you are ridding yourself of extra baggage and all connections to the earth.
but i’m sort of done talking about this right now. i’m tired, and thoughts are not flowing as they should be.
i really really really want to bake that blackberry plum tart. unfortunately… today will not be a good day to do so, unless i get another case of the midnight baking blues. which i may, you never know. i guess i should prepare for that and buy my blackberries and plums after my meeting. its a manic monday in maine. temperatures dropped back down to the forties! how terrible. but i guess that’s how the weather should be. no more ethel for a while. i’m not really looking forward to the rest of the day- two classes down, two to go. then a tennis meeting, global studies program, and then PYAC. why oh why do i do this to myself? a night of reading faulkner’s the sound and the fury and trig and whatever else i’m supposed to do. i think baking would really help me get through the next 14 hours.
maybe this is the wine… but maybe its not. isn’t there some latin phrase that says, through wine comes truth? oh boy. forget regrets, it’s time to get this off my chest and into the open. i’m a coward and i hide behind words and excuses and personas of all sorts. i have learned those things in therapy! but yes…. coming back with the lovely tuung and angus and julia stone, i realized love… when you love without desire..love…does not exist…but mediocrity love sure… is that even a word…or a real thing. affection..better word choice there. love without desire. when i ride you home because you’re drunk and its raining and you win. your untouched world….your views our similarities. que..que. ququque.
if i had him i’d do so much. i’d walk to his nook-in-the-wall house in the middle of the night to apologize for whatever drama i caused that day. i’d take rolls and rolls of film of him and ses companions. i’d bike baguettes to his doorstep, with books of matches, just incase. i’d listen to everything he would say, and because i’d listen, i’d remember. i’d laugh at his jokes even when i would be sad, i’d hug him until his heart’s content. i’d ask him about his aspirations, about his past, and about his ideals. i’d smile encouraging smiles. i’d say things that i’d regret. i’d have multiple playlists for him and his moods. i’d go searching for beautiful writing implements with him. i’d wallpaper his room. i’d find him a stray and name it harriet. i’d write for him. more than i already do. i would cook for him and let him pick the movies we’d watch. i’d know where his freckles are. like the one on the back of his neck, the lone one that caught my eye when i first saw it. i’d know how his joints work, how he’d walk. how he slept and how he dreamt. his room would be my haven, and my world would be open to his. we’d join forces, taking midnight bike rides around the west side, drinking wine and beer in the middle of the summer days. the wharf would be our park, where we’d picnic, write and photograph. i’d speak my broken foreign languages with him, and he’d respond with his broken languages too. my eyes would be intent on his, and my hands would be reaching towards him. i’d take a daily adventure with him, whether it be to mackworth island, or to a flat surface where backrubs could be donated. i’d give him hope and i’d give him love. it’d all be a secret, every last bit of it though. when he would be drunk, i would go to him and listen to his rants about his partial insanity, and his hindered dreams. i’d loan him my shoulder and show him my secrets. i’d collect his bits and pieces of poetry and keep them in my pocket. i’d pack up my bags and find us a fort to live in, somewhere with an herb garden and vegetable garden. diana ross would be our sunday soundtrack, and barathrum’s would be our favorite place to adventure. rules would be broken, but passions emphasize. we’d run, jump, skip, dance, paint, do, create, initiate whatever which way we’d want. the clouds would be our bedtime stories. my hates you pin would be my way of saying just the opposite. dinners in the dark, days under the covers. no one getting up to turn the vinyl. i’d forgive and forget. he’d do the same. later on we’d laugh over cups of mint tea. we’d think that cable has a hex that comes with it. our newest discoveries in the department of music would be shared via text, or via whisper. affection would be expressed through jabs, through words, through contact. eyes fierce, smoke puffing. one of these days…one of these days. drives on long stretches of highway, stopping at random fields of wildflowers. history in the making. crazies on the loose. no such thing as fail, no such thing as atrocious. we’d go our ways. we’d remember. being forever…perhaps in the mind, perhaps in reality. no promises that can’t be fulfilled. no empty hopes or empty dreams. he’d be mine, but he’d be his. i’d be his, but i’d be mine too. black coffee after a never ending night. hating when divine days end. sharing each other….rarely. takeout and foreign films. early morning trips to diners and delis. trading literature, in exchange for other literature. stories and words mark our progress. the more we write, the more we are. today doesn’t start until the page says so. lives lived, and lives to be lived. restraints…minded but not. a world to explore…each other to do the same. messages meant to be delivered explicitly, as if to address it to him in the title.
intuition to be heard and trusted. once in a lifetime opportunities to be grasped, days to be seized. company to be shared. lilac bush. in season once a year. in season once a year. then death when winter arrives. when winter arrives, we begin. we end when we’re done. his attempts to end it are countered by mine. nothing happens when we both try. courage built up….maybe later rather than now. if there’s a will, there’s a way, and there’s certainly a will. to be, or to be. question him, or me. love is what i’d give him. love and aspirations. love, aspirations, and a loaned shoulder. all in exchange for just him. because he…well he’s me. but perhaps not. perhaps i’m him, and he’s me. but we’ll never know. if i could do anything right now…well i suppose it’d be telling him this. telling him my thoughts…my wishes, my wants. but all in good time…all in good time. who knows what that means. all i know is that i’d do a great deal for him. and i’d hope he’d do a great deal for me.
i don’t think i have any other words to describe my feelings right now besides envious. its true that for the past i don’t know, 11 months i’ve firmly held my ground and could have cared less about whether or not i had a companion of sorts. its true that i still feel that way, but something about the photo displayed above set me over the edge, envy is building and there is no stopping it. of course, i’m not the sort of person who is going to go out and seek a companion out. im tired of that game. there aren’t really prospects in my reach because of reasons out of my control. there are factors that happen to restrict prospects which i have discussed in-depth with the lovely M. to add on to that train of thought- mere and i have been discussin’ our flat. we’re extreemly excited to eventually be getting a haus of our own! i think she’ll be ashamed of my uncleanliness however, but that’s something i’m willing to sacrifice. we’ve also considered opening our own restaurant called zest where you bring us the ingredients and we’ll prepare something that includes the provisions that are providide. of course, the logistics aren’t detailed, and we both know that we’d be inefficient and unable to stay on task, but that’s life, isn’t it? this afternoon we’re going on our first photo excursion of the new england spring, and we’re both looking forward to it! i need to pick up film tomorrow, and oh yes! how did i forget, m is going to be the official photographer on enfinoui this summer (of course, my photos will be displayed, but she is going to help out a ton) she may help with lookbook too (which reminds me; i need to get on planning a new outfit and shoot, hmm….ideas?)
anyway, going back to my rant about companions. i’d like one, yes, but i can also live without it, seeing as i’ve fared well these past 11 months, and in addition to that, i’ve also fared well prior to the most recent relationship of mine which ended for good cause *amen and thank god*. <– i just realized how funny that happens to be seeing as god n’exist pas dans ma tete! but yes, a companion would be nice. someone to cook for and watch black and white movies with. someone to fall asleep next to, and to parade up the congo. someone to come thrifting with me, and sit on the floor listening to vinyl and sip chamomille with. someone to go on walks on the west end with, and take rolls of magnificent film with! someone who joins me for late brunches on sundays, someone who thinks latin is fun, and who appreciates good literatue, good film, good caffine, and good tv. someone who likes the same music (plus more) as me, and someone who thinks my mood swings are hilarious. someone who has undergone some sort of tragedy in their lifetime, someone who likes me just as much as i like them. someone who finds the concept of i love you to be a part conformist society, and instead we express our feelings through words with merit, not words that are used because you are unable to convey your feelings in any other way so you turn to the easiest phrase, known to man kind and spit it out. i’m picky- yes, but i need to be. after settling for less than my usual standards in the past, its become more than apparent that standards have to be met or else there’s no purpose in having a companion. perhaps i’ll stumble upon someone someday- and perhaps i’ve already stumbled upon them.
more fiction pieces are coming out tonight! along with some lovely photos from today’s excursion, and maybe even a link to a certain prose that i happen to be awaiting.