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.
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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.