October 14, 2003
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Odds and Ends of Things
My mind has been busy….
The other night I had a vivid dream about red leaves. I was sitting by the pond near my home, and my grandfather had just died at that moment. As they fell from the tree I knew this, because my father would tell me later that day, and the present and the future were the same thing. When the sun shone throught the red it looked like stained glass, and all their veins were apparent.
I spent the day in Portland with the ladies. They all brought their yarn and sat on a pier and knitted while I watched the sun change the shapes of the boats. I do not knit.
But I would just like to add that fuzzy purple legwarmers are faboo. I felt like Cyndi Lauper all day long.
I once dreamt that I had died, and noone could see me. It was confusing at first because it seemed like years and years ago that I had been in my life, and how distant I felt from everything. I was wandering around a rainy parking lot trying to get someone to tell me where I was, then I remembered how sick I had been, and how suddenly and easily I let go.
I don’t think you’re supposed to have dreams like that.
We parked the jeep, and immediately I found myself faced with some art-school stranger’s smile. Maybe it was the pigtails, but it felt like JP for a minute. He even had black plastic art-boy glasses, chuck taylors, and a vintage T-shirt. Stupid boy magnets, I must remember to take them out of my pockets before I leave the house. Dammit.
I got mad on friday night because I didn’t want to talk, and I was feeling stubborn. We’d never had an awkward silence before. That was the worst part, me and my old terrible habits making themselves known.
We had tears on the pier, because it is frustrating trying to be extraordinary these days. Noone wants to keep us when we are not coy and polite and reserved. God forbid we give away our hearts or think something different, especially in this scheisty economy.
We decided this is a probably a government conspiracy against hot art chicks everywhere.
A boat.
The Yankees are a bunch of spoiled fat white jackasses and they can go suck a fat smelly green duck. Yeah.
Sex is similar to politics. I nearly fell off my log with glee when we all started talking shiznat about the boys in our lives. More than I ever needed to know, but exactly what we all wanted to tell, and make each other bawl with laughter. Strategies, diplomacy, silly underwear stories, battles, and revealing confessions….. I didn’t contribute much though, because I have no schiznat; just a sexy hedgehog waiting at home. (Purr)
I sent an email to someone about her pink lollipop, just to tell her I thought it was nice and we had something in common. Might have been a dumbass thing to do, but maybe it will stir up something interesting. Yes, I am a troublemaker, and I ask for it.
I miss Nick today. It feels like a whole tsunami of time and events has come between, but sometimes on cold mornings I clearly remember what it was like to wake up in his room and hear the snow falling outside.
Cramped in the car later that night, we ranted about politics, consumerism, why most of the people in this country are so mindless; and then more sex, the men we hate, how to ask someone on a date, and why boys are so unbelievably and generically stupid. For specific technical questions, everyone apparently looked at me. I do not happen to believe that boys are stupid. I was minding my own business in my corner, but I guess despite being a alleged jezebel I must know something useful.
Mmm, love.
