and it's storming outside.
I washed out
and onto your lap...
Started writing that a few nights ago, I didn't like where it was going. Upon further self-examination, I realized where it was going. I know why I am in this direction. Here's how I realized it. Or, maybe I am just searching for a reason to explain this. Either way.
A text message. Strangely sincere wording. A thought. A change of plans. Spontaneous. Ironing and perfume. Buyer's remorse. Setting myself up. An hour's worth of traffic. David Bowie. Witty texts. The beginnings of reconsideration. CTA bar. Him recognizing me immediately. Chinatown. Restaurant. No forks. Risk taking. Two mushrooms? His success with chopsticks. My failure with chopsticks. Fed me. Check. Tip. Suddenly awkward. The line I've been waiting for. Annie Hall. The part after she sings. Rain. Cold walk. Juxtaposition of industry and nature. Lots of doors. Short tour. The Catcher in the Rye. Remorse reconsidered. Wine. Records. T Rex. Hopes and Dreams. Nice linguistics. Flipping the Record. Vodka. Changing the record. Jazz. Wine. Quilts. Matching. Honest. Milo and Otis. Again. Drunk. Sleep. Cold. Awake. Sober. Cold. Remorse. Atypical male behavior. Invitations. Shoulders. Reconsiderations.
So. Something happens I've been waiting for...but I'm not all ready to jump on the wagon. I just want to write my ransom notes. To be the John Hinckley Jr to Jodie Foster. Or this. Should I just go along with it thinking I'll love it eventually? Or hold out? 'Cause I honestly like wearing a ring on my left hand and pretending I'm already happily married. I'm married to an idea. that may or may not exist.
I'll probably delete this blog. So read it fast, my darlings. I'm incredibly fastidious with my words lately. But I love you all the same. Really. I'd gladly have a picnic with all of you, in this precious little meadow with magenta and purple flowers and high grass. I'd even share my sandwich if you were still hungry.
but that's just how i feel?
y'know? i love reading your blogs.
ReplyDeleteseriously.
y'know when you happen across an unknown band, with their niche tunes and happy go lucky attitude, and your smitten?
one half of you dreams the world for them- your dying for other people to discover what you have, for you to show them what they're missing, and you aren't.
but the other half is like an overprotective mother, scared shitless that once they under the spotlight, on their own, they'll no longer be yours.
i love reading your blogs, but i hate letting people see me read them, for fear they'll plunder you from me and you'll no longer be my little secret indulgence.
y'know?
there was this quote i used to know, which you remind me of- but i cant remember it for the life of me.
so you can have this one instead, its something i thought may amuse you somewhat: but please dont think im some crazy stalker; my adoration for your writings and this anecdote aren't related :]
'What does love feel like?
Like a great misfortune, a monstrous parasite,
a permanent state of emergency that ruins all small pleasures'
- Slavoj Zizek
however im sure your lovely :]
WMQ
Well thank you! I love when my words are an indulgence. Usually I just feel like a little kid tugging at my reader's pants legs begging them to hear what I am saying. I feel Slavoj's words for sure. That's the kind of love I like. The kind that makes your stomach flip over and has you shaking on the tile because you just adore someone. Not the cute check box yes or no if you like me wonderful lets go to the prom and have a wedding thing. I thought that's what I wanted until saturday. Now I want to be kidnapped or something. Haha.
ReplyDeleteEither way. thanks! :)