Prison.

Prison. Hmm. My brother wrote me a letter from prison a few weeks ago and it took me this long to write him back. It's kinda strange. But i really enjoyed writing to him. There are zero mind games with him, no reservations. No need to sound cool or smart or impressive. If anything, I need to put things simpler for him. And that actually feels really good. How often do we say things just as they are. Without metaphors, without deep deep connections but just being honest without judgement, grudges, or any other side thoughts. It was nice to say hello to him. At the same time it feels a bit tragic to be penpals with my brother in prison. But I like it (of course
minus the fact he isn't at home..). Oh life. How funny you are.

I really really have to pee but I'm at the library and I don't know where the bathroom is and I don't want to lose my seat. Sigh.

i should really write more.

like the real stuff i used to write. how do new yorkers do it? i mean i get that ive turned into that person that runs into people and doesnt give a shit. but its not like that - really. you have to live here to understand that its nothing personal, you were just walking too slow. go ahead and bump into me too if you want. but writing?? i dont know. ive got to slow my head down for that. or speed it waaaaaay up and who wants to speed up confusion? perhaps that combination of both that comes with a glass of wine. that must be it! all the bars. its coming together now. walk realllllly fast all day: slow doooooown at happy hour. hmm. i mean i like sleep though so it might now work out. plus sometimes on saturdays i like walking really slow.

but what i was trying to say was that i should really write more because i have things to say! like this:

"There was a small screen on the bottom right hand corner of my computer. It discretely popped up to notify me you had signed on, then quickly back off again. It wasn’t that I was going to speak to you. Or honestly, that I ever would again. Only that your face was now in my head. Our laughter, your hands, and that incident in the middle of the street. Once I had refused to go home if you were not coming with me. so instead I sat in the middle of the road and did not budge without your first move. I was of course, slightly smashed. Either way, I wanted you. And now you were in my head again.

That smell of beer and cigarettes. I never before thought I’d associate these with unexpected, yet spot on connections and yes, love, and all that gushy mess that I actually believed in at that point. It was real. Now all I smell are my legs. Purple lilac breathes up my nose because I used christina’s body wash in the shower today. It’s a smell I don’t really associate with anything. One of the only ones. Although now that I think about it, my walls are a color closely related to lilac. In the family at any rate. Which means they at least exchange gifts once or twice a year. It must be hereditary then. that my legs belong in this room."

what is that? its nothing but its writing and it feels good and i like it and i should do it more.

january kinda sucks a little.

Peas in a pod.

I think I'm not friends with people anymore. And I think it's maybe because ihavent tried to be a friend to these people. And I partly think it's because maybe I never let myself be close to them or that I let us not be close anymore. Maybe we never were the same. I know it's because I've changed and I honestly can't remember just how I used to be but I know I'm far away now. From a lot of things. But I like where I am. What I do. The sunshine in the windows. The horrible gust as you turn down a cross street. Change is confusing me with loss. But I don't feel lost or that I've lost. I feel I'm perpetually coming out on top - even on the bad days. Even on the days I feel I've lost more than I gave away and maybe it's because I'm an optimist. And I can't stop loving. Either way. I wish I could see so many people. Just to see what they are like. even if I mean nothing to them.

But anyway. if life is a sport. Then I want to be its champion. ha

broken hearts.

there are too many. one for each person who has been my person - if only for a short time. one for each person who has moved me. i do long for them. if not consciously, then every moment i feel a misconnection. they are gone, i do fear it. why must things keep going and why cant we just be still for a minute to breathe. to think? to deflect if need be. and more importantly to get what we are feeling. to gather it up and hold it, nurse it. before i must give it away. its overwhelming in a sense - beautiful of course. a mystery of seasons.

shephards pie

people should not be allowed to like me. and i, them. because i dont know how to like people properly. and dont deserve to be liked. and im awkward.

and then people get their phones stolen because im not paying attention.

but shephards pie mmm so good.

lovefool

it is strange that i have lived through a similar thing - very strange. i think about it alot. mostly because i think its strange (and cool) how things recycle. and makes me feel so much more like a little piece in a giant GIANT thing. i feel like a wee baby too - the only problem is, i have responsibilities of real people. is there always a lag?

did i say im going to florida in a week? yeah. with a group of 60 people or so and i (barely) know about 5 of them tops. and they all know eachother so that could be interesting but i figure the odds are im not that uncool. i mean ill just want to sit outside in the sun for two days and read and im happy.

i wish i could hang out with my mom today.

a penpal, love letter of sorts

okay i get that. i can respect that. i would be offended if i was him. well, no, i mean if that was happening to me i might be hurt. wait.. it kind of is. hmmm. but not in the same way - no one thinks anyone is anyone's anything. is this making sense? just dont forget - even if you dont want anything, arent looking for anything.. that doesnt mean you should just take whats in front of you because its there. well, maybe you should - but only if it doesnt mean foregoing other things. you know. oh ramble ramble, you know what im thinking in my head anyway.

work was okay today. fast for a tuesday - good. finished a project. thought about how i want to do graphic design. now im thinking about how i ought to work on my stamp so i can apply for school. that i most likely wont get into and if i do, cant afford to go to anyway. but eh, ill try just for fun.

other than that - same old. except the same old for me, is all new and different for you, since we dont speak much. my nose is stuffy and it sure is a real pain. but i moved my room around and i loooooove it.

candlelit

sometimes i notice myself not caring about my clothes, or if my music is hip. im just doing what i like instead. and i really start to feel like im getting older. like today at brunch we talked about our cats - what they eat, how they play. our version of mothers sitting around talking about their children, or wives and their husbands. oh how strange are the patterns of life.

and speaking of strange, my romantic life has been just that. i call it my romantic life because i think thats what its supposed to be called, despite its lack of all assumed qualities. but no going into details. it all zeros out anyway. and i ate too much peanut butter mousse.

2010 is just, something else.