December 2008
8 posts
Lunch
Today:
I spent my lunch break in the Calvary Catholic Cemetery reading the head stones of dead children.
Macabre, I know. I couldn’t say what inspired me to walk up there, but I couldn’t imagine feeling better anywhere else at the time. I gingerly strolled along, imagining what transpired in the dash between the ten, twenty, six hundred days listed. I came across the grave of an...
“I think instead of martini you could use a little Mardini.”
– A text I recieved I received from Khalil. This guy makes me smile more and more each day.
Five weeks. Five weeks. Suicide. Vacillation. Funeral. Nightmares. Selfishness. Introspective. Reunion. Separation. Confusion. Longing. Betrayal. Snow. Blizzard. Sunshine. Planes. Sedatives. Trains. Luggage. Tea. Beer. Shrimp. When did five weeks become eternity? I’m too old for five measly weeks to be an eternity. All too soon it will be a blink, and then gone.
The letter you will never answer.
I wish I could inspire the delicate, desperate desire you have inspired in me.
As we stand it is not so. Your heart and mind are clearly free of the delightfully cumbersome shackels that take hold of mine from time to time.
When did spoken or written word become so powerful? Was it once we lost control of our self worth? Validation then only is determined by the emotion of others? So then how is...
I enjoyed being a robot much more than this sentimental nit wit constantly hemorrhaging emotion. I’m so out of sorts.
Where is this taking me?
From where does this desperation come?
There’s nothing I can do about the reality that I’m alone, and going to die alone. I realize that. I’m not afraid of death.
I am afraid of the death of everyone else.
Is it so wrong to...
I miss people who never give me a second thought. It’s ultimately selfish of me to be vexed by something as trite and over used as the words “I miss you”, so I try to shift my focus.
To what? Birds, books, rain, music, jazz, martinis, unfamiliar faces in dimly lit rooms.
I try to be nicer to the people immediately around me, try to reciprocate any sentiment when it’s...
What am I doing? I’m creating a string of collateral damage because I can’t deal with death like a rational person. Not this death, anyway. What’s in my head? Zombie.
I’ve always been the observer, the healer. Always. I failed. Now I am over scrutinizing and panicking.
Everything I thought I knew is wrong. Everything is gone. It’s all over but the crying.
How can I...
My life is like my stretching: when it comes down to it, I pass out if I try to sketch too far. I black out, my body goes numb. My brain is shoved between two boards being forced towards each other.