Thursday, August 26, 2004
never you mind
it's just that it would be easier sometimes, even for me, to just say or think i feel an i-love-you or just to be frozen in a corner with my hand sewn to yours. easier then it would be to go out there alone, and look for something real. it's such comfortable protection from uncomfortable beginnings and messy endings that will come both too soon and too late. i am chock full of first and last pages of compelling novels, with nothing in between. dear bri, some day you'll write yourself.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
me versus you
this ankle of mine. it hasn't been the same since i most heroically attempted to jump five blast master mats during tae kwon do class, and didn't make it.
i made it over once, but on the way back, i slipped. i crumbled. my ankle twisted and turned, to fit perfectly in the crevice of thick foam. a perfect injury. i crumbled. i know exactly what went wrong... i jumped with this severe sense of caution on the way back. there was this moment of hesitation. i didn't care if i cleared the mats, i guess.
it hurts still.
the getting over just goes slower. honest.
i made it over once, but on the way back, i slipped. i crumbled. my ankle twisted and turned, to fit perfectly in the crevice of thick foam. a perfect injury. i crumbled. i know exactly what went wrong... i jumped with this severe sense of caution on the way back. there was this moment of hesitation. i didn't care if i cleared the mats, i guess.
it hurts still.
the getting over just goes slower. honest.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
my luvr.
erik is this boy, my best friend. and people who know me know this, right? right.
well, erik is strange. see, we used to date, and when we dated, we never cuddled. it would've signified too much of a commitment.
and he's strange because he will come to my abode, my home, and never take off his shoes. he'll lay on my bed, and keep them on. he says it's a security issue. i think it's more of an anal retentive tendency.
but now we're friends, a better concept. because commitment to friends isn't such a scary proposition. and with the newfound sense of trust and security that this friendship brings, there is room for infinite affection, namely cuddling.
bri and erik, the cuddling of, consists of myself, prone, and erik curled into a fetal position against or on top of me. he rests his head against my peanut butter cups, and i hold him. it is not unlike a lactating mother, feeding her baby. it is this easily grasped sense of security, achieved through a lack thereof.
erik keane - my lover, my friend - it's time to take off those shoes.
well, erik is strange. see, we used to date, and when we dated, we never cuddled. it would've signified too much of a commitment.
and he's strange because he will come to my abode, my home, and never take off his shoes. he'll lay on my bed, and keep them on. he says it's a security issue. i think it's more of an anal retentive tendency.
but now we're friends, a better concept. because commitment to friends isn't such a scary proposition. and with the newfound sense of trust and security that this friendship brings, there is room for infinite affection, namely cuddling.
bri and erik, the cuddling of, consists of myself, prone, and erik curled into a fetal position against or on top of me. he rests his head against my peanut butter cups, and i hold him. it is not unlike a lactating mother, feeding her baby. it is this easily grasped sense of security, achieved through a lack thereof.
erik keane - my lover, my friend - it's time to take off those shoes.
Monday, August 23, 2004
nineteen
i don't think i ever knew what love was at all.
the being-in of it.
i'm this silhouette of a lost little girl. a kid who just spilled the whole gallon of milk on the kitchen counter, and now it's uncontrollably and fatefully flowing off and down and pooling on the linoleum. and i know that i'm trouble either way.
the broken heart & breaking hearts, i have tested thoroughly. i hold it, memorized and choreographed, my experiment in time increments carefully marked with the names of those to whom i once bestowed my hard-won affection.
nineteen and there was never a first time.
dear diary,
my dorm is so much better & i have aspirations of liking my classes and giving admirers more than one glance. dare i disclose that my heart is feeling like mirrors shattering over and over, and this is not all bad, but neccessary. i am all on my own.
bri.
the being-in of it.
i'm this silhouette of a lost little girl. a kid who just spilled the whole gallon of milk on the kitchen counter, and now it's uncontrollably and fatefully flowing off and down and pooling on the linoleum. and i know that i'm trouble either way.
the broken heart & breaking hearts, i have tested thoroughly. i hold it, memorized and choreographed, my experiment in time increments carefully marked with the names of those to whom i once bestowed my hard-won affection.
nineteen and there was never a first time.
dear diary,
my dorm is so much better & i have aspirations of liking my classes and giving admirers more than one glance. dare i disclose that my heart is feeling like mirrors shattering over and over, and this is not all bad, but neccessary. i am all on my own.
bri.
Monday, August 16, 2004
i quit.
Boy #52987738208728231 –
So I’m approaching this situation differently this time. Instead of exerting my best effort, I’m not going to put forth any effort at all. I was one of those kids who was raised to not quit anything, to always follow through until the end of something, and to always do your best in every situation, whether you care about it or not. It could be healthy to do the opposite just this once.
I’m tired of fighting with no results? Being passionate is over-rated?
I think the truth is there is a part of me that no longer gives a flying fuck. Yeah.
Maybe some day I’ll even quit this awful job.
So I’m approaching this situation differently this time. Instead of exerting my best effort, I’m not going to put forth any effort at all. I was one of those kids who was raised to not quit anything, to always follow through until the end of something, and to always do your best in every situation, whether you care about it or not. It could be healthy to do the opposite just this once.
I’m tired of fighting with no results? Being passionate is over-rated?
I think the truth is there is a part of me that no longer gives a flying fuck. Yeah.
Maybe some day I’ll even quit this awful job.
Sunday, August 01, 2004
last place you look.
No matter how many times or how many people that I rehash the events and memory, it will never hold any significance. It’s fucked up in a way I can’t even fathom, how pointless all my ranting and speaking about you has been, because you will never know how I feel or how I felt then, or what was going through my mind. It was the line, the border between the familiar and the current. And the life after. And you won’t know it. We will never talk about it. We will never speak about anything like it again.
We will act like we’re dead.
We will act like we’re dead.
