scrubbed and sour with sleep
Aug. 6th, 2001 08:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aslantanother perpetual and unanswerable morning. i am leading an imagined and unbeginnable life.
woke before the alarm repeatedly, blearing at the sun in the shades and doing nothing, turning over, sleeping more, curving body and curling self into someone not there. fell asleep late after pushing and pushing into more and more sylvia plath, who writes disturbing things about her mother now, and discovered ted had an affair, probably. the fallibility of men. but i felt a hand on my hip the whole time while i read, and i read parts of it out loud. if you heard me. if.
on the radio an l.a. critic was discussing the new print of apocalypse now (redux) and how stunning the colors are now. and added scenes "resetting its internal clock". remembering senior year and post seven brides being dragged along to dominic's house with jr and kara and horror upon horror unable to concentrate on the screen although desperately wanted to watch it: the nightmare of them on the couch was too much. why did we turn it off? in my memory it is because the force of my discontent shattered all the windows.
spoke with jennie for an hour last night, my faraway and genius lovely girl. she says she is alright but i keep my fingers crossed for her. just in case. her advice spurred me to condense all weary and unfocused thought into two polar opposite ideas with one caveat:
1. i can go. i should go. i ought to go. what is stopping me? at worst i stand to risk complete rejection, loss of a beautiful and wordy love-affair, and also the friendship of a boy i have known hardly more than a week.
2. i can not go. this is as much a decision as a negation. in deciding to not go: i can protect everything. vital bits, self-image, brink of depression, etc. then i suffer the inevitable petering out of said love-affair, killed by too much teoria not enough practica, and also the ensuing years of doubting what-ifs and never knowing.
although perhaps august is a closed month to me, it is not so long a month and at the end of it i have two roads open. one leads firmly airport-wise and is the more frightening, the other is the same road i always walk, back home. i am not truly tied to this city. life easily transports with minimal fuss across seas. londonward. where did the plain road get me six years ago? not to seattle.
caveat: a passport is, apparently, an easy and swift thing to renew.
woke before the alarm repeatedly, blearing at the sun in the shades and doing nothing, turning over, sleeping more, curving body and curling self into someone not there. fell asleep late after pushing and pushing into more and more sylvia plath, who writes disturbing things about her mother now, and discovered ted had an affair, probably. the fallibility of men. but i felt a hand on my hip the whole time while i read, and i read parts of it out loud. if you heard me. if.
on the radio an l.a. critic was discussing the new print of apocalypse now (redux) and how stunning the colors are now. and added scenes "resetting its internal clock". remembering senior year and post seven brides being dragged along to dominic's house with jr and kara and horror upon horror unable to concentrate on the screen although desperately wanted to watch it: the nightmare of them on the couch was too much. why did we turn it off? in my memory it is because the force of my discontent shattered all the windows.
spoke with jennie for an hour last night, my faraway and genius lovely girl. she says she is alright but i keep my fingers crossed for her. just in case. her advice spurred me to condense all weary and unfocused thought into two polar opposite ideas with one caveat:
1. i can go. i should go. i ought to go. what is stopping me? at worst i stand to risk complete rejection, loss of a beautiful and wordy love-affair, and also the friendship of a boy i have known hardly more than a week.
2. i can not go. this is as much a decision as a negation. in deciding to not go: i can protect everything. vital bits, self-image, brink of depression, etc. then i suffer the inevitable petering out of said love-affair, killed by too much teoria not enough practica, and also the ensuing years of doubting what-ifs and never knowing.
although perhaps august is a closed month to me, it is not so long a month and at the end of it i have two roads open. one leads firmly airport-wise and is the more frightening, the other is the same road i always walk, back home. i am not truly tied to this city. life easily transports with minimal fuss across seas. londonward. where did the plain road get me six years ago? not to seattle.
caveat: a passport is, apparently, an easy and swift thing to renew.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Re: [insert happy lyric here]
Date: 2001-08-06 08:18 am (UTC)you can cook with my mother. she does catering for weddings, and so on. and we can have huge spanish parties. there is a sort of barbequeue in spain, where they cook these strange onion things, and they are filthy to eat :) I will show you one day.
Re: [insert happy lyric here]
Date: 2001-08-06 08:23 am (UTC)filthy barbecued onions in spain :) another delicious plan. almost as good as jaunting to tokyo just to get a cup of noodles, which i have also dreamt of in my spare time.
on saturday i ate only japanese food. tempura from the stand in quincy market (the crowd pushing shoving receipts at the chef who yelled in japanese the entire time at the rice boy); sushi that afternoon with carrie; rice with soy sauce for dinner with chopsticks stolen from the sushi store. i love chopsticks. i wish i could subsist on rice. i should move to china.
Re: [insert happy lyric here]
Date: 2001-08-06 08:28 am (UTC)I would love to go to tokyo. and hong kong. we will.
and there is a restaurant in paris, where the floors are made of glass. and terrapins and fish look up at you from beneath. I will take you there too.
subsist?
I like chopsticks too. makes me feel elite :) alas, I have found nowhere that will deliver me chinese food as of yet.
Re: [insert happy lyric here]
Date: 2001-08-06 08:35 am (UTC)surely there must be a hardworking chinatown in london? somewhere someone waits to deliver you some of this miraculous and sticky rice-encased food. to be sure: the chinese might take offense if you ask for sushi, it being primarily japanese. but no matter. some places have combined menus.
yes. fishglass floorrestaurants in paris.
the day seems so shitty i want to tear out my hair and burst out of my skin and scream out of the building towards you:
FOR FUCK'S SAKE LET'S GO NOW BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE. TO PARIS. TO TOKYO. TO AMSTERDAM. NOW.
but i just sit here quietly with my knees demurely crossed. biding my time...
Re: [insert happy lyric here]
Date: 2001-08-06 08:40 am (UTC)"my heart subsists mainly on you" - that's very sweet :) I smile stupidly, and phenn wonders why.
paris, tokyo, amsterdam. anywhere my sweet. as long as you join me.
these are all completely realistic suggestions btw, we could go anywhere you wanted.
Re: [insert happy lyric here]
Date: 2001-08-06 08:51 am (UTC)mmm. maybe i'll hunt around in the square to see if i can find any for lunch. sushi. sushi. brain. fixed. on. sushi.
you say 'completely realistic suggestions' with such offhanded assurance. my heart flutters. i am a travel addict, perhaps.
Re: [insert happy lyric here]
Date: 2001-08-06 09:07 am (UTC)offhanded assurance :) if you are a travel addict, I can keep you supplied. we both complete eachother. you can protect me from myself - and I can take you everywhere. I think you will rekindle my interest in "things" too.
I saw that film, with the female baseball team last night. the lead character (I forget her name) was from Oregon, but she didn't have the accent you do. I'm sure that sandra bullock must be from there.
Re: [insert happy lyric here]
Date: 2001-08-06 09:13 am (UTC)is that 'a league of their own'? never saw it. people in movies from oregon never sound like true oregonians.
i still don't buy that i sound like sandra bullock. i'm not that big a fan. plus how can you take someone seriously whose last name sounds like bollocks?
ridiculous. truly.
unaffected by drugs. decided I'm in love.
Date: 2001-08-06 09:21 am (UTC)haha. you don't have to be a fan of hers, I just think she is from oregon, because you pronounce certain words alike. and I KNOW her surname sounds like bollocks - that's part of her charm :)
yes, you can show me places in my own country, and rekindle my fascination for pretty things.
Re: unaffected by drugs. decided I'm in love.
Date: 2001-08-06 09:30 am (UTC)i just want to wake you up and make you happy.
Re: unaffected by drugs. decided I'm in love.
Date: 2001-08-06 09:31 am (UTC)Re: unaffected by drugs. decided I'm in love.
Date: 2001-08-06 09:33 am (UTC)as if i'm training to walk up a mountain in the high thin air.
or (of course) across a rope bridge. not looking down because i am tremendously afraid of heights, when i can see them.
Re: unaffected by drugs. decided I'm in love.
Date: 2001-08-06 09:41 am (UTC)Re: unaffected by drugs. decided I'm in love.
Date: 2001-08-06 09:48 am (UTC)please work. do not let me interfere. i shall catch up on emails from friends that i (guilty, guilty) have let pile up this morning and last week.