1001 Silver-marker days.
January 28, 2007
They never know how many you have, you never know how many they have, and it’s impossible for any of us to keep it simple and have none. Remain nonchalant and distracted, wear as many scarves as possible, listen so hard and take it for granted!
Down in the Lime Tree Arbor.
January 12, 2007
The mood comes around once or twice a year, at the coldest and hottest times of the dueling seasons. A mood in which I cannot listen to albums, songs, music, anything, unless its going to make me brood and smoke and pace. I sometimes have more than I can handle (indirectly, quite good for the scent of one’s home) but I’m always [carefully] open to suggestions.
Busy busy, it never truly ends. Pangs of being left-out diminish as I forget and forget and forget. Sitting on my porch with my eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to recapture the moment where a photo was taken of a cupcake and myself (“Oh I hope it isn’t terrible”). I’ve got enough to worry about. What’s the quickest way to be ready to leave? How to fix your heart and accounts all at the same time. Maybe become brave like my father thinks I already am. I think I’m more ridiculous, secretly desperate and naive than brave, but if it could be mistaken for such, perhaps I should turn my thoughts around. I need foundations though.
How absolutely hand, leg, torso, arm’s length we are. People, they ain’t no good.
(I think I’m a lot like my cat.)
