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

2003-07-29 - 2:11 p.m.: crystal lite

last night someone said to me, "julie� what are you doing? what do you do? i don't know anything about you." i didn't know what to say to her. i feel bad that i keep myself so far away from the center that i have to be pulled in. i don't want to be that person. but how do you talk about yourself? how do you talk about anything? i really don't know. i don't know. i tried discussing it a little with lush� but i'm not sure he really knows what it is that i need to understand. i just get so frustrated with my inability to intervene� to interrupt a flow of conversation and make it move differently. i want to interact with people in a certain way, on a certain level� but i don't know how to get it there on my own. i don't know how to do anything else. i get so mesmerized by the flow. so choked.

(i don't know how to manipulate circulation. if my mind is heart-shaped with one-way valves� i pulse too slowly to keep up with you. the blood of even a simple conversation is thick and complex and takes time for me to mush through. i'm sorry. just spill it on the floor, all at once, if you want speed. i'll react. but you still won't know me.)

maybe i just want something that's impossible.

(but impossible is getting harder and harder to believe in).

i use "know" and "don't" almost as often as "maybe"...

i got an email from my wood nymph friend today� she's made the acquaintance of a guy i knew in high school. he was a puzzle that the whole school tried to figure out. i don't know what he's like now. if i had to guess, i would say probably an underachiever who numbs his tendency to think deeply with a variety of illegal drugs. i would say he probably doesn't wash very often, and tends to withdraw more often than socialize. he probably alienates himself on purpose to keep himself from having to explain why it happens on its own. why? because this would be exactly the opposite of how i remember him� and things just tend to work out that way. i want to ask her if i'm right.

what he apparently remembered about me was that i graduated in the same year, with highest honors. that makes me cringe, though it's to be expected. i was so quiet in high school. so withdrawn. so far out of any category (but so easily slid into every) that i don't know if i would remember myself, if i wasn't so loud in my own ears all the time.

if you're not remembered, did you matter?

i'm a little bit scared by this feeling. i'm a little bit scared to leave everything. i want a life. i want to live outside of it. i want to raise children. i don't want to be an adult. i want to trust completely. i want to remain alone. i want to i want to explore the world. i want to be able to call something home. i don't know if i can do it all. i don't know if i'll ever fall in love again, with anything. i don't know if this is an adventure, a cure or an escape. i don't know what i'm running from. or to. or through. there is a song that i've been listening to every time i drive more than 5 miles. it is sung by stevie nicks. i don't know what it's called� but it puts these words in my mind: "i turned around and the water� was closing all around me� like a glove... it drove me through the mountain� through the crystal like a clear water fountain� drove me like a magnet� to the sea." it's just a song. and it's not even a very wonderful song. but i won't pretend that i don't get sucked in by the imagery. and i won't pretend that i'm so smart that i don't get romanced by songs while driving. and i won't pretend that the little part of me that was toying with the idea of moving to the coast didn't get pushed completely over the edge by the beauty of visualizing the liquid manipulation of crystalline forms. of driving through mountains. i won't pretend that i'm not motivated primarily by impulse and circumstance.�that i'm not just a little bit dangerous.

i won't because i've always been a terrible liar.

but i lie well. i have five pillows in my bed. partly to take up empty space, partly because i find it's easier for me to sleep on lumps� easier to have something to shift with my toes� to curl behind my knees� to throw a leg over. i don't know if i've always been like this and just discovered it, or if i've changed. maybe this is why i dream more, now. maybe i will never make my bed again. my sheets are so soft, so worn, already� the blanket i use on top is more of a fishnet, meant to go under something broader, thicker� more captivating. sometimes my fingers get hooked in its holes and it reminds me of something from childhood� almost a finger-sucking security. i like getting into bed, now, and merely untwisting my sheets to get things started, to get eyes batting, lids heavy. i like twisting to my stomach and hooking a foot over the opposite edge. knees up, down, side-ways then crossed� ankles hanging over the side. cool breeze on toes. hot pillow? switch. cool cheeks. i feel like i'm breaking out of a cocoon every time i wake up. unburying myself from a grave. untangling myself from a net. always alone, and always surprised to be here.