Aug. 2nd, 2001

aslant: (Default)
it is my birthday today tra la la.

grandma c sang to me on the phone last night with john and clarissa. grandma b called this morning to sing with grandpa. mom called. several emails of happy birthdays. and i opened my box and my card this morning on the phone with mr a, who was sweet on the phone as usual. sweet on me, too, i think.

very restless night. fell asleep in my dress and woke at midnight when jason was in the kitchen and i stumbled into pajamas, feeling blank and odd. in the eight o'clock hour, though, i enjoyed the porch and my view of the sky, as per usual. the chimneys and rooflines. my twilit kingdom. kept waking up, feeling like an adolescent christmas clock-watcher, and rolling back over because it was not time yet, it was not time yet. woke up precisely, eyes wide, the second before the phone rang. i know these things. in my blood, singing along by veins and nerve-endings the echo of the lines and wires on the street, intersections of energy and optics and racing across the sea came the phonecall. which i predicted perfectly.

the only mar to this morning: decided to satisfy my curiosity and finally let the scandisk scan its way through the c drive, which i usually exit out of. it took an entire hour. i read my plath. i was being so very very patient. and what did it do, when it finished? exited to a command line that gave me endless error messages. i am an illiterate dunce. so i rebooted and had to exit out of the scan as usual. stupid computer.

i will not think of it. i will think of the lovely day stretched out forward, clean and light and friendly and pure. and twenty-two. twenty-two. twenty-two today and forever.
aslant: (Default)
it is so easy for me to return love.

is this my trouble? is it too easy, that way, to fill in the blanks, the gaps, with assumption. i don't want this to be true. this is precisely how i harmed perry. i do not want that. i don't want this fear to be true.

i fear it worse than a plane ticket, today.

oh my god

Aug. 2nd, 2001 11:45 am
aslant: (Default)
the roses just arrived.

they are beautiful and i am a stunned familiar girl. i am lucky girl. you are a poet. i wanted to cry when i read the card but there are people here.

thank you thank you. for making my day and my week.

they are so very beautiful. red like my heart. filling up myself with their perfume which is everywhere in the room now.

stunned. stunned. and smiling.
aslant: (Default)
robert, the one who kept singing springsteen at me yesterday, is actually not a bad guy. reminds me of uncle pete (the heat). all brawn and muscle and crackling male humor. quizzed me on his name as i cringed, laughing, guessing: bill? john? brian? to no avail. robert! he said laughing. told him about my horrible names/faces memory. we joked about my birthday, how i'd have to celebrate. i manufactured some semblance of social life with a few vague words. felt idiotic, again. he was nice about it, though. kept glancing at the flowers and saying nothing. ha, i thought, i know and you don't, and it is a beautiful story you will never know. i wonder what i would say if he asked? nothing, probably. effacing words.

just now he was leaving and a minute after, poked his head in the door for a brief second demanding with a gruff smile, what's my name? robert, i said triumphantly, saying goodbye as he leaped and bounded off down the hallway.

rumplestiltskin is your name, i should have said.

the end

Aug. 2nd, 2001 04:07 pm
aslant: (Default)
no e. no lunch. no happy friend time. monday, she says. monday, i agree.

unable to leave until you say goodbye.

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