There was nothing like the dark trees while the noisy roads listened, while the streetlights outside paid no attention to the people rolling beneath them. The bye-bye lights of carnivals passed the window; and then there was the power plant, which sang energy and light into the dark, acting as an oasis of illumination in a black desert. From the window everything seemed magnificent. Riding a train at night was like smoking an unlit cigarette. There seemed to be no progression, just anticipation; then a little light and you were almost there. When the sun came, it worked the earth like a principal overlooking a playground –watchful and engaging, keeping time and energy. The road/track kept the car/bus/train as they piloted their way to destinations beneath the exhausted sun. Brown and green grass ran rapid there, and corn built its way up to the sky. On the road, the future was right there. Experience was happening all the time, without matter-of-fact action. One could stare at the bashful skies, irreverent grass and the gray paved roads, and know that lanterns and lights, all by the roadside –the thousands of them, were there to help one keep living.
i am incredibly bored with myself and my life. i feel like i’m going stale. it’s a bad, bad feeling.
to describe this, to explain the feeling in an exact way: I would say it’s like me watching myself posed on my death bed.
bedside me is saying, “just die already…go ahead…do it. be dead.”
deathbed me insists, “it isn’t time yet. i want to hang on.”
twist: there is a third me, standing by the bedroom door. she’s armed with a backpack and is ready to jetset.
- Riding a train at night was like smoking an unlit cigarette. There seemed to be no progression; then a little light and you were almost there.
- There was nothing like the dark trees while the noisy roads listened, while the streetlights outside paid no attention to the people rolling beneath them.
- Every night we were in a dim detention, forced to stop, consider and think. We couldn’t move, not until a bell was rung.
- The power plant sings energy and light into the dark. It is an oasis of lights in a black desert.
- The bye-bye lights of carnivals play against my eyes as I rode home, the long way.
- The road keeps us as we pilot our way to destinations beneath the exhausted sun. Brown and green grass ran rapid here, and corn built its way up to the sky.
- We know these places. The places where dreams are buried into stumps of trees, like the dirt holding seeds
- A truck tugs it’s miniature duplicate behind it, hitched together like nuptials.
- The sun works the earth like a principal overlooking a playground –watchful and engaging, keeping time and energy.
- Sometimes you can only take metaphors so far, before you have to lay them aside like road kill –and hope that others can make better uses of it.
- It surprises me, constantly, that bus rides across Illinois can inspire me more than the words of Faulkner.
- I feel that I’m the most animated on a quiet bus.
- When I’m on the road, the future is right there. Experience is happening all the time without matter-of-fact action. We can stare at the bashful skies, irreverent grass and the gray paved roads, and know that that lanterns and lights, all by our side -the thousands of them, are there for us while we keep living.
so, i don’t nearly write on my blog enough, but i creep on the blogs of everyone that i know -everyone, even you (if you have a blog and i know the url). and my reason for not writing isn’t because i don’t have much to write about or that i’m ever at a loss of words, because even at my most boring and my most quiet, words rattle around. the fact is, my mind is just a terrible mess -an awful mess that won’t allow me to stay focused and do one thing at a time. i wish i could get a mental tune up -someone to get in there and cleanup shop… that way i wouldn’t feel like such a complete failure all the time. ugh.
Below is the drawing of how i feel within. rather than writing something, i thought it was to best to place a hand to my chest, think about how i feel and turn those feelings into an image. it”s actually a really helpful exercise -especially for those who aren’t quite sure how to finely word whatever is bothering them.
so i had a working interview to be a barista today. considering that I can be a huge fuck up, it went really well. i almost gave away extra money, but the my “wtf” siren went off and i was able to snatch it back.
—Costumer service is key, I learned that today. Even if you get a person’s order wrong, you burn them with coffee or you accidently touch the top of their sandwich with coffee-grind-covered-fingers -everything is forgiven with a smile. And i was told that i had a beautiful smile twice today. caaa-ching. i hope i get the job, i feel so languid. ugh. i deserve this job. it isn’t too far from me, and i know that i can do it.
-in other news, i’m fairly done with my article for eleven, actually i’ve been done but i still need to have the interview with the band’s manager or their bass player or whatever, who is just way too busy for me. but whatever, i have the article finished and i like it -i would prefer not to rewrite it anyway. -and with volunteering for belas artes, that’s going well. i write, create flyers and i help in almost any capacity that she needs. i go in twice a week, armed with charming personality and i help her to knock out tasks.
In order not to overwhelm ourselves, and in the general welfare of ourselves so that we aren’t going crazy…we may implement a series of tasks, chants….whatever…much like the one set in place for the short term, so that we can maintain our sanity. we will support one another and make sure that the other does not relapse. it’s a team effort that’s all about determination and control. we’ll maintain control. yes, control. mhmm. this may not make sense if you’re not natalie or myself but that’s cool, and you’re still cool.