Harry: You realize, of course, that we can never be friends. Sally: Why not? Harry: What I’m saying is — and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form — is that men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way. Sally: That’s not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved. Harry: No you …
I slept in the middle of the bed. It was a quiet momentous thing. I rearranged my space to reclaim it. I literally have a new perspective.
Ephemeral is a good word. It comes out as a breath, with that brief “mmmm”, a delicious note on the way to a lip licking “ell”. It’s a new day. This feeling of newness happens every once and a while – like moments of sadness, or boredom, or infinite ordinariness. To feel shiny is a blessing whether or not I believe in any god.
When I began this blog, oh…yowsah! fourteen years ago? (I suppose I could check.) I told myself I’d make it a daily thing and wouldn’t really tell people about it. I managed to do that for four years. All the posts haven’t been migrated to wordpress, but they exist. Some time I’ll get around getting those over. It was a good habit. I was able to see patterns of care …
How do you measure – measure a year? In daylights – in sunsets In midnights – in cups of coffee In inches – in miles In laughter – in strife… Seasons of Love, RENT In beats In movements In Acts In chapters Divided by rests; by margins, bleeding to the edges … But who would count eternity in days? These old bones live to learn her wanton ways: (I measure …
CONNOR: Are you busy right now? Can I call you about the wind? wtf I call. “Did the tree fall down?” “No, but it looks like it might. Dennis says one fell down in his neighborhood.” “Yop. The main entrance to RIT is blocked because a tree fell. Most of the lights in Henrietta are out.” “Can we call someone?” “And they would…what? Watch our tree fall on the house? …
I’m in Manhattan eating a bagel as big as my head. We’re at a serviceman’s hostel: mom, Elaine and her boys, me and mine. 9:30 They’re all also except me. Typical. But here I am writing like dad would while on his travels. It feels right. It’s quiet. Mom sprang for this family gathering. Elice and Brahim couldn’t make it. It’s the end of Ramadan. We’ll see them later this …
Fast forward to equilibrium please.
C broke up with me. And I get it. I’m a lousy girlfriend. I really am. Or I have been for the last…oh, year. He waited a long time, and I don’t begrudge him getting on. Mood swings. My sexual desire nearly evaporated. Menopause is a b i t c h. I kept him at arms length. Felt guilty for not desiring him, for hiding because seeing anyone was work. …
Reading some dark Phillip K. Dick, heard the sound of a passing ice cream truck’s chimes. “Ask not for whom the bell tolls it tolls for thee” “You ain’t right, girl.” The background processes tweak interpretation of what the senses take in.
