| Reflections; or Sentences and Moral Maxims (1665–1678) |
[03 Nov 2009|11:15am] |
38. Nous promettons selon nos espérances, et nous tenons selon nos craintes.
75. L'amour aussi bien que le feu ne peut subsister sans un mouvement continuel; et il cesse de vivre dès qu'il cesse d'espérer ou de craindre
276. L'absence diminue les médiocres passions, et augmente les grandes, comme le vent éteint les bougies et allume le feu.
-François de La Rochefoucauld
amen.
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| he said, she said |
[02 Nov 2009|08:50am] |
so i suppose there is new information, new angles on the battlefront.
and this is precisely why communication and honesty are of the utmost importance.
i want only to be with you, she read and wept as she trampled her way through the puddles of leaves he was supposed to be sharing with her.
no, i'm not giving in, negotiations have just begun. this time it will be a slow trek back to a place we both fear but want, and it will be on my terms. and it will be taken seriously, and respectfully, and wholly, the way that it should have been the whole time.
he told me i can hire a bounty hunter. i'm sticking him to that if this doesn't work.
here's to cautious, methodical, realistic hope. yes, they can exist in the same world.
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| a foreign goodbye. |
[25 Oct 2009|12:26pm] |
adieu, mon poulet tres estupide et fou.
she sent without any expectation of a reply.
until the next day when his virtual silence seemed to confirm that it was in fact an adieu, and not the au revoir they had always talked about, and it all settled in again.
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| Life tracking devices please? kthx. |
[19 Oct 2009|12:39am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 thoughtful |
] |
She had made it to the second bus stop. And now, was waiting for the connection. She checked her phone furiously (even though she had kept updating it the entire first bus ride) to see when the next one was coming. She noticed that the woman who had gotten off at the same stop was now also waiting with her for the same second bus. 11 minutes. ugh. She stepped out into the street to look as far north as her nearsighted night eyes can see, hoping for some sign of incorrect CTA data, but sadly, there was none. 11 minutes it is. She continued to check her phone again. 10 minutes. Turned on music on phone to listen to in headphone. Texted Cassandra about more issues previously discussed that night. 7 minutes. Walked out into street again to see if there was any visible progress. Still none. A man with a tripod slowly approached the bus stop and stood next to where the woman had sat. Having kept the now two characters in her peripheral vision the entire time, she now realized that within the past 5-7 minutes, not once has the woman looked at her phone to check the arrival time. Nor has she as much as stood up, or even paced, or more importantly, walked out into traffic to see if she sees the bus on the horizon. How horribly peculiar! she thought. The woman obviously has no idea when the bus was coming, since she wasn't using her internet capable wireless device to track the bus, and she most certainly cannot know the bus schedule (or lack thereof), yet she is not interested in the time it will take for it to come. But there she sat, continuing to wait in stoic silence. She doesn't even look bothered that she has to wait at all! Standing there next to this woman, she looked down past her tracking device (that now said 4 minutes) to her shoes on the pavement that were the same color as his that day they met that she loved so much (even though hers were made in China and his, far superior, in the US) and realized it was this kind of patience she needed. Of course the bus would come; It was a night owl bus track, it would have to. The woman knew she was going to have to wait, and it didn't matter how long, because she knew it would come. Eventually. Her grandmother always knew her other son would call on Sundays after church, and we would wait with her in the house. On days when his phone call would come later than brunch, and sometimes later than dinner, she would cheerfully and sporadically declare with such a boisterous optimism, "Bob will call!" Grandma Frances knew Bob loved her and would take the time out of his day to let her know. There was no doubt in her mind, only trust. Only love. It was that blind trust, guided by love that made this kind of hopeful patience possible. She knew this was the kind of trust and love she wanted, needed to employ. She knew this was the only way, because without trust, there is no love. And of course, without any help from bus trackers or pacing in the street to encourage signs of life, Bob's call and the bus eventually came. Right on time.
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| chasing a mirage. again. again. again. |
[14 Oct 2009|12:20am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 crushed and infuriated |
] |
Two birds on a wire
One tries to fly away
And the other watches him close from that wire
He says he wants to as well
But he is a liar
I'll believe it all
There's nothing I won't understand
I'll believe it all
I won't let go of your hand
Two birds on a wire
One says c'mon and the other says "I'm tired"
The sky is overcast and I'm sorry
One more or one less
Nobody's worried
I'll believe it all
There's nothing I won't understand
I'll believe it all
I won't let go of your hand
Two birds of a feather
Say that they're always gonna stay together
But one's never going to let go of that wire
He says that he will
But he's just a liar
Two birds on a wire
One tries to fly away and the other
Watches him close from that wire
He says he wants to as well, but he is a liar
Two birds on a wire
Once tries to fly away and the other
are you ready boots? start walkin...
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| GREAT day. |
[22 Sep 2009|12:44am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
dresden dolls - good day. |
] |
i'd rather be a bitch than an ordinary broken heart.
so.
over.
this.
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| la vie et la guerre et l'amour. |
[21 Sep 2009|12:52am] |
i feel a little better, a little bit more secure about the actual move itself, now having established a lovely young woman and her cat, 6ft loom, and piano as my roommates and travel buddy cross 1/4 country and a lead on a job, but the emotional upheaval may still cause my blood to go cold and my skin to numb.
also, he might be dead.
and as jun and i like to say, well he fuckin' better be, and if he's not, he's gunna be!
i can't take much more; my shoulders and heart are far too small and weak for this.
i'm also seriously considering a tattoo, two, in fact, maybe three. either diptych or a triptych. more later. but i need it to something i see every day. all the time. to remind me that yes, this, infact, is life. and on that note, josh's 50 year old father died today of a sudden heart attack. my mother's good friend nikki elliot died earlier this week and my cousin's high school sweetheart (reunited and married again after 50 years of being apart) bill decamp died as well. I wore the gold 60s shift dress nikki gave to me tonight to see my friend celeen off before her move to antarctica for the next 6 months. and i can't help but think, when will i, and more importantly, when will everyone else? and of utmost, when will he.
it might be tomorrow, if i get my hands on him before jun does...
c'est.
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| when it rainers it pours. |
[14 Sep 2009|11:54pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 restless |
] |
i.am.so.scared.of.my.life.
i am so exhausted. i am so tired. i am barely 24 and i am already worn out. so i've put all my eggs in one basket, and now i'm too terrified to pick it up and carry it. to move it. to take it and throw it into the lake and see if it sinks or swims. i have no idea how i did it before, but i know i hated it and i dont know why i think this time will be different.
and i breakdown. again. and search for the email where my father told me i was too young to be exhausted (somewhere around age 20); am i qualified now?
but instead stumble across an email containing this:
“You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day in to the answer.”
the funny thing is more than one man has shared this with me, but i've never actually listened until this very moment. I've listened and, now, I learn.
(hopefully)
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| this terrific life. |
[10 Sep 2009|07:10pm] |
I am terrified of losing the collagen and elastin from my face. I am terrified of being young and stupid and i'm terrified of not being young and stupid. I'm scared of taking one wrong step and throwing my whole life out the window and i'm scared i will regret not going through that window later. I am so afraid of forgetting the things I've done and places I've been and things I've learned.
I want a stethoscope and a tattoo.
I want my life now and I am terrified of it.
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| 6.13; 8.16.85=24 |
[16 Aug 2009|10:59am] |
c'est ma anniversaire !
and i got a lovely phone call last night from the east coast informing me that it was my birthday in new york, or jt, but not yet ct.
champagne, sushi, and dancing, what could be better? oh yea, you.
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| fml. |
[15 Jul 2009|10:39pm] |
WHYDOESNOONEBELEIVEMEEEEEEE
fuck. really? hope! hope! hope! there is hope in hope! come ON!!!!
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| until the morning light. |
[01 Jul 2009|09:34pm] |
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws one voice out of two seperate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.
rilke, love song.
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| learning to like the wind. |
[22 Jun 2009|12:38am] |
it was a beautiful day. first official day of summer and it was shared. it makes me just want to repost everything i wrote about this very similar day in september 2003. it kind of made up for the fact that i've been ignored/stood up/blown off three time in the past three weeks, been left at a bar alone, walked home by a stranger who asked to "come up," have been randomly contacted by 2wk bf from risd pre-college, called and texted more often than not by N, and have now officially hit the 6 months of being single mark, all this week.
and now for this:
i imagine it being like a bakery of toasts, all varieties available, burned, grilled, buttered, smothered in jam, chocolate dipped, strawberry topped, crust on, crust off....in all sorts of cute deli-style displays. a gallery of toast, cafeteria style. with many mismatched, endearing tongs.
"Does it ever cool off?"
"No, this time of year its hotter than the hinges of hell. We got stars, though."
"I was just waiting for everything to start; now it's...over?"
"Success, success, not greatness, was the only god the entire world served."
"CAll me baaaccck, somebody! Call me baack"
"I want to learn to cook, i want to learn to laugh, and i want to tap dance."
"Is there anything more important than the conversation we're having?"
"I'll call you. right. back."
"No problem, just dial hell and I'll answer!"
"If you're smart you'll just wear your shoes and never ask any questions; just enjoy your footwear."
"Do you ever just think, 'I'm fooling everybody'?"
"Men see things in a box, and women see them in a round room"
"They met in an elevator"
"I think i've been asleep most of my life"
"Me too"
"Death, Life, Death, Life, death and life! Right next door to each other! THere's like a hair between them!"
"I'm impossible to forget, but hard to remember."
"Have you ever had unlucky clothes?"
"What a fucking jerk."
"He's not a jerk, he's a brilliant man who give himself permission to be preoccupied"
"COME ON!"
"I'm walking out the door, in last night's clothes"
"I Will miss your lips and everything attached to them."
happy summer, i hope.
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[19 Jun 2009|12:52am] |
met kanye today. wearing flats.
i am so disappointing.
going nowhere. and fast.
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| i could kill someone right now. many ones, in fact. |
[24 May 2009|09:37pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 furious. |
] |
| [ |
music |
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i'll be home for christmas - bing crosby |
] |
i guess its my way of taking the control back. if things aren't going my way. I'm not running away from it, i just make sure to take action first. kind of like, i'mbreakingupwithmesoyoucantbreakupwithme thing.
doesn't seem to work out does it.
fuck.
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| terrific. |
[10 May 2009|07:06pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 a perfumed anxiety |
] |
| [ |
music |
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bright eyes - this is the first day of my life |
] |
She walked out of the small apartment complex on the north east side of the city, she saw the tiny purple petals scattered along the walkway that he had told her about from the morning before, and breathed in for a very long time. He was right, they looked better when on drugs, and she might as well have been. It was dark out, but a warm dark; one that wasn't all-consuming, one that was light and full of life, one that instead of pressing down, lifted up. Recalling his instruction, she turned right and walked towards the lake. She could hear the interstate nearing and closed her eyes while walking for a moment to listen to the cars. It was as if she were back in the place she wanted to be so badly four, no, five years ago, where there was a beach not far off, but a make-shift one from car exhaust harmonies right at her disposal. The wind was warm, like the lake it had come from, and for the first time she remembered what it was like to feel alone, but happy. The sound of the approaching and departing cars felt like waves and it comforted her so to be so close to something that felt so real. She was happy, but was upset that she was so, because it meant she had come to a place where she knew she would have to jump or retreat. With terrific anxiety and happiness, she waited for the bus.
It came, and she got on.
She chose a seat, closed her eyes, and hoped she had done the right thing.
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| you know i wish that i had...no, was. |
[08 May 2009|11:33pm] |
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It was the first night in Chicago that was warm enough to walk out of the house, wait for the bus, walk a few blocks and have no worry in the world or need for a sweater or other knit accessory. Little did she know, she would be found; and she hadn't even shaved her legs for the occasion.
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