love and love letters are two different things. love is deep and magical and complex and intense; too often, love letters are the lonely sorrowful cry in the otherwise dark and still night. love possessed is expressed in silence and active patience, in contrast to love lost, expressed in the all too recognized mournful wail of the broken-hearted love letter.
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fvck i was
they used to play backgammon outside under the streetlight until the sun came up.
“why cant we go in the house? lets..”, she would ask? “because ..”, she would always answer, and they would play on. it was never an option and though the one pretended otherwise, they both knew better.
years later that streetlight would be torn down.
im convinced that regret is very real, and that people that say otherwise are just masking the pain of having lost their streetlight.
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1-800-huh-what
it goes something like this in her head.
a: he couldnt talk huh?
b: who, huh?
a: you know who ..
b: huh, what?
a: he couldnt talk.
b: how do .. hum..
a: everyone knows.
b: hum..
a: nice picture. I got it..
she never gets it.
jealousy is not attractive. love is selfless, she keeps reminding herself – while continuing to feel slanted by his off-screen presence .. To think, she auditioned him.
she asks me what to do?
Love wants to be selfless, but it’s not. Lies of omission ..
So deal with it. Step back, and reassess whether or not you’re actually comfortable in the the box you are in. If you arent, can you step out? If there isnt then, or it’s .. well, you get the idea.
Its a flowchart.
shit happens, things change.
Never the bride, always the bridesmaid, she walked away with her head in her hands.
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shimmer
she calls me from the cold just when I was low, feeling short of stable and all that she intends and all she keeps inside, isn’t on the label.
she says she’s ashamed and she can take me for a while and can I be a friend, we’ll forget the past but maybe I’m not able and I break at the bend.
we’re here and now, but will we ever be again cuz I have found all that shimmers in this world is sure to fade away again.
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windmills
i spend too much time raiding windmills
We go side by side Laughing until it’s right
theres something that you won’t show Waiting where the light goes
take the darkest hour-break it open Water to repair what we have broken
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long words
1. supercalifragilisticexpealidoshish
2. good-bye
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it doesnt work
i like to try to trick myself into thinking
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what makes you happy?
i have this friend, i used to know him as podz. now i know him as mark. he has an old blog and the name of it was the title of this post. so blame him.
what makes you happy?
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it’s like sleeping with an electric blanket. in august.
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seedlings
the snow is gone, the plows are out.
i think it’s hot that you like to garden and grow things. it sort of figures you would be into that. i like to pull weeds. i also like to water things. i like to watch things grow. i like dirt under my nails, but only for a short time.
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today. phone ringing. dreary skies and rainy bridges to cross. not a good day for pictures. tommorrow we will see more of the same.
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consistently inconsistent is
its hard to write and have it be an independent thought, something that exists outside of all the other things you write; life is a big story. But it’s also subject to the ups and downs of the human condition –today I feel one way, tomorrow I may feel something else. I really need to keep that in mind while I read my own thoughts. Like she says, Ive never done this before.
hummph “:)
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Life is a compromise of what your ego wants to do, what experience tells you to do, and what your nerves let you do.
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why is this nice
its nice to be reminded daily that im not the same blubbering moron i was when i was 19. 
summing it up in 1 sentence.
I mean that in a good way. Really I do.
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dont read into this
i was outside, just 30 minutes ago, watching the snow fall, and the words were all here. I knew what i wanted to write, and yet, here i am — again. stumped.
ok fine, lets start with me apologizing for calling you a prude. youre not a prude, and that was never the right word. Hypocrite was the right word. you were right
second, please dont walk on eggshells with me. i know that contradicts what i think said before, but i really like YOU, and I dont want you to be someone else when you talk to me, or when we meet again. I dont read into your texts extent to the extent that it takes me to understand some of them. and honestly, what flirting we do. i like.. its safe and harmless, and i dont think it needs to be over-analyzed.
you make me smile. you make me laugh. i think youre incredibly funny, and intuitive, articulate, and intelligent. (in no order)
i’m mesmerized. C: and it feels good. and i dont need it to be anything other than what it is.
dont read into any of this
more later. i’m sleepy drunk and want to go eat cereal.
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unrealistic expectations
so the truth is that telling yourself that you are going to stay “out of the past” completely — it’s crap, it’s unrealistic, and it doesnt work.
im currently torturing myself over the fact that i apparantly *never* tried very hard to find c. after i got my inheritance, and why not? for the life of me i cant remember any particular reason. other than m, and i know where that got me. im torturing myself because my life, her life, and quite possibly, her son’s would be a lot different. im seeing Hawaii, or someplace equally as warm and tropic.
even more unrealistic.. expecting that you can stay completely out of the past, while trying to establish some type of ‘something’ with someone that came from your past. that doesnt work either.
needless to say, im struggling, and I cant talk about this anywhere else.
on the one hand, if i didnt have any connection i would be devastated (i think)..
on the other hand, i wouldnt be left wondering if I am just a convenient escape to her boredom, and feeling like im chasing somone and something thats not ever going to be attainable or sustainable. not to mention the constant memories im bombarded with.
ugh.
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persistance
i still cant shake it. Im writing, obviously, but its still just blurbs. i cant write letters either, at least letters of extended substance. the thing is that my brain feels like its going nonstop thought after thought after thought after thought.. and I dont mean at a normal speed, if you know what i mean.. in other words, there’s content there, I just cant seem to articulate.
so i say, “bleh”
struggling with xmas present(s) also. good thing ive started thinking about this early
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i geuss cyber space is a lonely place
^ an amazing observation when you sit and think about it, especially coming from someone that is ‘unwashed’, as it were.
(someday i’ll share this site with her, or not. i hate to use her words though, and not.)
for when i do: you dazzle me all of the time
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perfect place
sitting with my feet buried in the warm sand, watching the sun set over the ocean.
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blah blah blah
crappy day. all around. grey.
struggling with the sinking feeling.
turning off the phone.
g’night.
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liquor is quicker
whered u go ?
//blowing through my minutes.
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the window
the window closed. i felt the air get sucked out my chest.
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boys are nasty
imagining her lips on my neck. it was warm everywhere. im going to back to bed now.
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do you ever
just smile, for no reason at all? or so everyone else thinks.
i think im going to start paying closer attention to people and those wierd shit-eating grins they get. i think they have a secret too.
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lemonade morning
my neck is cold and the spaces behind my eyes feel like lemonade tastes. the cheri of 2 day today didnt sleep very well.
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while i was out
no you cant have this blog, its mine.
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Hello whoo.wordpress.com
I had to snatch up whoo before anyone else decided they might want it. God knows, there is surely another whoo somewhere out there.
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- the subtle difference between love and the letter (or why she cant write because you have to be unhappily inlove to write loving sappy words)
- fvck i was
- 1-800-huh-what
- shimmer
- windmills
- long words
- it doesnt work
- what makes you happy?
- coffee shop on a snowy march day – short version
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