last glass...dusty buckets...parched e-lips...sponge...drip...drop

2003-06-30 - 12:19 a.m.: puddle skin

i just did laundry and had no quarters left for the second cycle of whites....resulting in a room draped in white t-shirts shorts and sheets like dust-cloths in an abandoned mansion with ghosts lurking in shadows and light. i turned on some candles with matches and music (the afterglow) and love this feeling of being alone in a haunted studio. felt good being alone all day today... as strange as it sounds... i really needed it. not the alone-ness so much as the time. the time to spend freely.

the time to spend feeling guilty for not returning the call that i should've expected but didn't, from the one whose feelings i (don't know what to do. don't know what to say. don't know what to feel. feel wanted. feel cherished. don't feel anything.) must have been born to tear apart. but it's good... because it gives me a better idea of--or maybe appreciation for--the kindness of the one who was born to test mine.

numb feels monstrous at times like this.

but this weekend was nice.

i don't know what to write about it... don't know what to record... what was important. almost died laughing during a lennon song sang by an uncle with a high-pitched, off-key warble at the knot-tying ceremony of amy (is for Attractive, Audio, Account) and greg. was almost affected by the antics of friends before realizing that they were drunk & had no idea. wished we could all be kids at the same time, for one day. almost regretted honesty 'till i learned from it. there's nothing like wishing you hadn't said something, then wondering why you wish you hadn't said it, then finding out that you've changed your mind about it and have grown a few steps beyond where you were just because you've eliminated a piece of the uncertainty that kept you circling what you should've been able to walk right through. embarrassment is a small price to pay for freedom. and the best thing about talking on the way home was knowing that i couldn't possibly do any more damage than i've already done. there is a freedom in that, too.

a sad freedom, but still.

ran into trouble at the canadian border when they questioned lush's name and sent us to immigration, then searched the car and found the one-hitter and empty tin.... there was nothing in them... nothing they could do... but we were most ungraciously kicked ooot of canada.

improvised a good day.

lovely post-storm clouds and a rainbow.

french film provoking child thoughts about life and death and leather coats and slippers.

thinking about train tracks. thinking about leaving. thinking about where and when and how.

"broken telephone the lines are down
i throw myself at nothing
i throw myself at nothing"

and again.

and again.

and again.