This is a story I have neglected to tell:
Eight months have passed since the hardest day of my life. That same day also harbors one of my awesome accomplishments. Sunshine and a cloudless sky were the wonders I woke up to.
Saturday, the last day before they burn him. There was anticipation in the air and music in every camp. The sky was beautiful and a gentle breeze rumbled over the silt-alkaline playa. Clouds of dust billowed in the distance and rolled towards camp quickly. The music had long since stopped and everybody was talking. I learned the definition of a "white out" and I learned that a camping tent is all too porous.
In minutes, visibility was reduced to seven meters. It hurt to open your eyes and it was impossible to mash them together hard enough to keep the fine silt out. I hid and I listened to the only radio station around for miles- it was being broadcasted from another camp. They were asking for help.
A lamplighter? I heard the word but it took a minute to comprehend. They were calling for volunteers to go out into the storm and secure lamps along the pathways.
I made my mind up before I had chance to think. My new friend, Spoon, loaned me his spare set of goggles. The lamplighter camp was just thirty meters away and I assumed a spot near the volunteer board. There were set paths, each needing volunteers. A woman turned to me and asked which path I wanted. I asked, "Which path is the longest?" She pointed and I nodded.
"Do you want to light or do you want to carry?"
"Carry."
She pointed me towards the tent and I put on a long white robe with handpainted flames coming up from the bottom. It covered every inch of me except my eyes and I thanked Spoon, silently, for the goggles. Volunteers were trying to light lamps, but the storm was blowing them out. Others were in line with huge wooden poles across their backs and I realized what I'd signed up for.
The storm was too rough to take a truck. This meant that we'd have to walk the long path twice; to the center and back around. I stood in line as lighters filled my pole with lanterns and I shifted under the weight to get more comfortable. We began to walk.
Along the path, we'd take constant stops to make sure nobody got lost. Periodically, a lighter would take two lanterns and hang them on the posts we passed. We reached our halfway point and turned into the wind. At that point, it became impossible to stand up straight- I leant forward into the wind while my remaining lanterns blew wildly. Many of them fell from their hooks and the line stopped increasingly more often. Eventually, we'd unloaded our lights and began our walk home. When we neared camp, people starting cheering. A chocolate cookie was handed to me and it was melty from the heat so I ate the whole thing in one bite.
At camp, I disrobed and received my glorious Lamplighter charm. I walked back to my camp, exhausted, and my two friends asked where I had been for the past few hours. I couldn't decide if I had been in heaven or hell.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Saturday, April 19, 2008
A Day in Pittsburgh
First, let me say that today has been a bad day by the strangest of criteria.
Secondly, let me say that today has been full of the weirdest things.
I was pumping gas earlier and gawked at the exorbitant price. I surrendered $40 to the cashier and went back out to fill up my thirsty Accord. Then I noticed a sign:
NOTE: We do not accept
-Checks
-Bills larger than $20
-First born
-Arms and Legs
What??? Yeah, I almost choked. Professionally printed on the gas tank.
Later, I passed this deep staircase that lead into a door that leads to a basement, but was painted shut. Orange. And what's weirder is that in front of this painted-shut door were two very nice pair of men's loafers- brown and black. Slipped off and left side by side. At the bottom of stairs on a major road in front of an orange door that leads nowhere.
The next thing that happened is that I looked up the meaning to my name. I always thought it meant 'Wealthy'. That's what my bookmark says. The other day, though, this guy told me that Jessica means (insert cheesy line to flirt with girl). When I went to prove him wrong, I found that my name has no meaning. Shakespeare made it up. Not only am I an eighties fad, I'm the byproduct of a literary genius. Also note: I will never name my children Jessica, but it is a cool thing to have a made up name.
Secondly, let me say that today has been full of the weirdest things.
I was pumping gas earlier and gawked at the exorbitant price. I surrendered $40 to the cashier and went back out to fill up my thirsty Accord. Then I noticed a sign:
NOTE: We do not accept
-Checks
-Bills larger than $20
-First born
-Arms and Legs
What??? Yeah, I almost choked. Professionally printed on the gas tank.
Later, I passed this deep staircase that lead into a door that leads to a basement, but was painted shut. Orange. And what's weirder is that in front of this painted-shut door were two very nice pair of men's loafers- brown and black. Slipped off and left side by side. At the bottom of stairs on a major road in front of an orange door that leads nowhere.
The next thing that happened is that I looked up the meaning to my name. I always thought it meant 'Wealthy'. That's what my bookmark says. The other day, though, this guy told me that Jessica means (insert cheesy line to flirt with girl). When I went to prove him wrong, I found that my name has no meaning. Shakespeare made it up. Not only am I an eighties fad, I'm the byproduct of a literary genius. Also note: I will never name my children Jessica, but it is a cool thing to have a made up name.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Gift-Wrapped
Life is awfully full of surprises. There isn't much you can do sometimes, but open your palms, catch it all, and say thankyou thankyou thankyou.
Have you ever had a dream that altered the way you looked at everything? Today I smiled a lot. I didn't miss the things that I have been. And there are lots of smiley faces in my text messages.
More than anything, right now, I'd like to go swimming. That would be ecstasy.
Have you ever had a dream that altered the way you looked at everything? Today I smiled a lot. I didn't miss the things that I have been. And there are lots of smiley faces in my text messages.
More than anything, right now, I'd like to go swimming. That would be ecstasy.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Day 12, My Jell-o Self
I kind of feel like jell-o. A solid figure, by loose definition. It holds its form. You can set things on top of it just fine, like a piece of paper or a spoon. I come in great colors, sometimes a little too flashy. My jell-o-self is often too sweet and other times, sugar-free.
I am easily shaken up. You rattle me around and I’m a wobbly mess that breaks at the sides. I have definite edges and flat faces, but sharp things slide right through me, and I find myself injured and caving around the hole that you left in me. Pointing fingers just makes your hands messy, but forks and knives and shish-ka-bob sticks leave clean trails of mush through my body. You can hold me up to the light and the impurities are easy to see, but usually people will forgive them. What are a few trapped air bubbles?
Sometimes I’m that green jell-o that they serve at Luby’s cafe. A horrible shade of green, jealous of the people and the love that I sit here watching go by. I’m in squares, cubes, all divided and stuck all over the place in this round cup that was never supposed to be for cubed jell-o. I’m lemon-lime flavored and a little bit of me, in this particular state, will make you pucker up with a sour face. The blue jell-o gets all of the attention, maybe because people can relate to an honest sadness.
I am easily shaken up. You rattle me around and I’m a wobbly mess that breaks at the sides. I have definite edges and flat faces, but sharp things slide right through me, and I find myself injured and caving around the hole that you left in me. Pointing fingers just makes your hands messy, but forks and knives and shish-ka-bob sticks leave clean trails of mush through my body. You can hold me up to the light and the impurities are easy to see, but usually people will forgive them. What are a few trapped air bubbles?
Sometimes I’m that green jell-o that they serve at Luby’s cafe. A horrible shade of green, jealous of the people and the love that I sit here watching go by. I’m in squares, cubes, all divided and stuck all over the place in this round cup that was never supposed to be for cubed jell-o. I’m lemon-lime flavored and a little bit of me, in this particular state, will make you pucker up with a sour face. The blue jell-o gets all of the attention, maybe because people can relate to an honest sadness.
My Enemy, the Finish Line
3/26/08 11:30 PM
This time, I don't have anything in mind or any conclusion to draw.
I'm reading a book about a man's decent into hell. I'm also talking to a guy who is making his way out of it. I'm talking about addictions and damages, sobriety and love. People have a profound impact on me. I think I am easily influenced and easily uplifted. I don't consider this a character flaw.
The hardest thing for me to learn is this- don't stop searching. Ask more questions. Know that the limits you give yourself are not healthy stopping points, but handicaps. Desire to look for more than you know how to ask- for more than the answer-to-the-question and then the period-at-the-end. Your heart is not that shape that you draw on paper. There are no lines or boundaries to what you can be.
Sometimes people run marathons. A big sign says 'Start Here!' and small signs have names on them: #59, #72, #28. Nice to meet you. Everyone near #28 hopes she doesn't slow them down. They Start Here and they all look for the Finish sign, which means they have completed that thing that they set out to do.
Half way through the race, a lady in her sweats stops to catch a breath and stumbles to the side for rest. She has come far, and unpins the 28 from her shirt. She knows when the next marathon is. She is eager to see how far she can get again.
Most will walk away having 'Started' and 'Finished' here and then there, and will never know how far they could have gone. Take down the Finish sign. The lucky ones will never make it to a finish line, but can be happy knowing that they have made it very very far.
This time, I don't have anything in mind or any conclusion to draw.
I'm reading a book about a man's decent into hell. I'm also talking to a guy who is making his way out of it. I'm talking about addictions and damages, sobriety and love. People have a profound impact on me. I think I am easily influenced and easily uplifted. I don't consider this a character flaw.
The hardest thing for me to learn is this- don't stop searching. Ask more questions. Know that the limits you give yourself are not healthy stopping points, but handicaps. Desire to look for more than you know how to ask- for more than the answer-to-the-question and then the period-at-the-end. Your heart is not that shape that you draw on paper. There are no lines or boundaries to what you can be.
Sometimes people run marathons. A big sign says 'Start Here!' and small signs have names on them: #59, #72, #28. Nice to meet you. Everyone near #28 hopes she doesn't slow them down. They Start Here and they all look for the Finish sign, which means they have completed that thing that they set out to do.
Half way through the race, a lady in her sweats stops to catch a breath and stumbles to the side for rest. She has come far, and unpins the 28 from her shirt. She knows when the next marathon is. She is eager to see how far she can get again.
Most will walk away having 'Started' and 'Finished' here and then there, and will never know how far they could have gone. Take down the Finish sign. The lucky ones will never make it to a finish line, but can be happy knowing that they have made it very very far.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Minor Things Like Breaking the Law
Possibly, I just broke the law in front of a cop. I mean- I was standing on the side of the road waiting for the cars to run into the inevitable red light; their waiting was my opening. I stepped out into the street and turned to see a cop smiling out of his window at me, jaywalking. I smiled back- ’This is minor’, my smile says. ’If you turn at this light, you’ll see that I also parked mostly on a painted curb.’ Just barely, though. And I crossed the street only thirty feet away from a crosswalk. This is minor.
Today I let my hair go curly and it feels good to embrace the natural. I smell like shampoo instead of styling products. I look carefree instead of polished. Josh Groban is playing on the radio here in this cafe and I’m smiling behind these pillowy curls. I ate all the strawberries in the fruit cup and the grapes all rolled into eachother. Writer’s often describe grapes as gregarious- or maybe they’re describing people who grow together and huddle together? Anyhow, the small things are all metaphors.
If you’d like to know something about the way I treat people- know this. When I shop for bananas, I don’t look for the most yellow or green or firm. I find the bananas that are all by themselves- people pick up groups, think ’Ah, one too many here!’ and that banana is returned. I am the person to pick up four or five solitary bananas and bag them and take them all home together. No body describes bananas as gregarious and that’s a shame. They’re sunnier than grapes, no? But it’s a minor thing.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that the people in my life have moved me. My roommate says ’Let’s go to New York soon!’ and my best friend calls and says ’Let’s meet in DC tomorrow!’ I check the mail and there is a package from a dear friend in Austin who has gone out of her way to have something made for me. My dad calls me daily, even if I don’t need it. Ilya teaches me how to love all over again. It’s not just about bananas and chatty grapes- the minor things that make me smile. This is about the big picture that I am falling in love with.
Today I let my hair go curly and it feels good to embrace the natural. I smell like shampoo instead of styling products. I look carefree instead of polished. Josh Groban is playing on the radio here in this cafe and I’m smiling behind these pillowy curls. I ate all the strawberries in the fruit cup and the grapes all rolled into eachother. Writer’s often describe grapes as gregarious- or maybe they’re describing people who grow together and huddle together? Anyhow, the small things are all metaphors.
If you’d like to know something about the way I treat people- know this. When I shop for bananas, I don’t look for the most yellow or green or firm. I find the bananas that are all by themselves- people pick up groups, think ’Ah, one too many here!’ and that banana is returned. I am the person to pick up four or five solitary bananas and bag them and take them all home together. No body describes bananas as gregarious and that’s a shame. They’re sunnier than grapes, no? But it’s a minor thing.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that the people in my life have moved me. My roommate says ’Let’s go to New York soon!’ and my best friend calls and says ’Let’s meet in DC tomorrow!’ I check the mail and there is a package from a dear friend in Austin who has gone out of her way to have something made for me. My dad calls me daily, even if I don’t need it. Ilya teaches me how to love all over again. It’s not just about bananas and chatty grapes- the minor things that make me smile. This is about the big picture that I am falling in love with.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Day 1
I spent almost 27 hours driving my little Honda across the country. My butt went numb, my cat slept on the dashboard, and the gas tank was always low. 70mph the whole way with the scenery racing by, yet my thoughts were stuckstuckstuck on you. We talked daily. We talked for hours. After we hung up, I continued to hear our conversation in my head.
Sometimes I feel like I have come here to gain independence. Sometimes I think that I have uprooted my life in order to figure out who I am. It even crossed my mind to say to myself that I am doing all of this because of my youth and I’ll never have the chance to do this again.But mostly I am just running from inevitable heartbreak. I couldn’t stay around while I broke apart.This isn’t supposed to be a sad story, though. I’ve only cried once since you left me there, wrapped up in blankets and memories. My family hugged me. My Nanny offered comfort instead of advice. My dad sent sunflowers to my new apartment. They’re happy and cheery on the dining room table. This story has new characters and chapters, new bedroom furniture and street names. I’m going to get lost a few times. I’m going to say something that people don’t say outside of Texas. And I’m going to learn a lot about relying on myself for once. It’s a happy story, see?
Day 1 is going well. I got around town, bought groceries, sat in Starbucks, and bought you a gift. I unpacked another box, decided to buy long curtains, and then I did a load of laundry. Many things have followed me from Texas. But no matter how hard I try, I’ll never ever ever be able to get rid of
laundry.
True story (and a happy one, remember?)
Sometimes I feel like I have come here to gain independence. Sometimes I think that I have uprooted my life in order to figure out who I am. It even crossed my mind to say to myself that I am doing all of this because of my youth and I’ll never have the chance to do this again.But mostly I am just running from inevitable heartbreak. I couldn’t stay around while I broke apart.This isn’t supposed to be a sad story, though. I’ve only cried once since you left me there, wrapped up in blankets and memories. My family hugged me. My Nanny offered comfort instead of advice. My dad sent sunflowers to my new apartment. They’re happy and cheery on the dining room table. This story has new characters and chapters, new bedroom furniture and street names. I’m going to get lost a few times. I’m going to say something that people don’t say outside of Texas. And I’m going to learn a lot about relying on myself for once. It’s a happy story, see?
Day 1 is going well. I got around town, bought groceries, sat in Starbucks, and bought you a gift. I unpacked another box, decided to buy long curtains, and then I did a load of laundry. Many things have followed me from Texas. But no matter how hard I try, I’ll never ever ever be able to get rid of
laundry.
True story (and a happy one, remember?)
Monday, March 3, 2008
A "Dear John,"
Dear Austin,
You knew we were over. I walked your streets, I ate at Spiderhouse a thousand times, I tried to Keep it Weird (though sometimes my normalcy was enough). I saw your shows, sometimes twice, and I rocked hard at ACL. I Halloweened on Sixth Street, and I laid in your tattoo parlours for hours. But baby, I'm done.
There is more out there that I haven't seen yet. Austin, there are neighborhoods the size of your entire downtown! Not that I'm unhappy with your downtown, Austin, but sometimes a girl wants a bigger one.
I've spent many years here and I've watched best friends move across the state, across the country, and one who could be leaving for the other side of the world. After having received my own Dear John recently, how can you blame me, Austin, for needing a change? You'll always be my first downtown, my first concert, my first apartment... but we're young, too young to be tied to each other forever. I've got to move out, move on, and step it up, baby. I've got to be totally alone for once, lost and lonely, and find my own way back again. I know it's hard, Austin, to see someone leave. And we'll visit each other- my family lives here still so you can bet that I'll be back! But not for Spiderhouse, not for Toy Joy, not even for Buffalo Exchange... I'll be back for the people here who mean so much to me. The people who helped me and made me as strong as I am.
Love,
Jessica
You knew we were over. I walked your streets, I ate at Spiderhouse a thousand times, I tried to Keep it Weird (though sometimes my normalcy was enough). I saw your shows, sometimes twice, and I rocked hard at ACL. I Halloweened on Sixth Street, and I laid in your tattoo parlours for hours. But baby, I'm done.
There is more out there that I haven't seen yet. Austin, there are neighborhoods the size of your entire downtown! Not that I'm unhappy with your downtown, Austin, but sometimes a girl wants a bigger one.
I've spent many years here and I've watched best friends move across the state, across the country, and one who could be leaving for the other side of the world. After having received my own Dear John recently, how can you blame me, Austin, for needing a change? You'll always be my first downtown, my first concert, my first apartment... but we're young, too young to be tied to each other forever. I've got to move out, move on, and step it up, baby. I've got to be totally alone for once, lost and lonely, and find my own way back again. I know it's hard, Austin, to see someone leave. And we'll visit each other- my family lives here still so you can bet that I'll be back! But not for Spiderhouse, not for Toy Joy, not even for Buffalo Exchange... I'll be back for the people here who mean so much to me. The people who helped me and made me as strong as I am.
Love,
Jessica
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Permanent Ink
So.....
(what comes next?)
Geez, it's been seven months since I've written anything. And really, I'm sitting here with a basic idea of what I want to write and what I'm trying to convey. I'm just waiting for inspiration or an idea but I just keep thinking-
what comes next?
Ha! See there! I've already got it.
That. There. I've already pin pointed what brought me back to this computer screen in the first place. This hanging question that every one around me seems to have the answer to. What does come next?
I'm so type A. I have spirals and binders and lists and pen marks and chicken scratch all over the place. It's chaos but it's still a perfectly organized "Where-am-I-going?" I started with a web site that let me choose thousands of schools and it narrowed my choice down to only seventy. I had to cross out twelve or so that devoted themselves to Catholicism or Judaism. Some were 'historically black serving" or "historically hispanic serving". No scholarships to be had there.
Another twenty were crossed out due to the "town" being the size of a public mall. Yikes...
And now I'm left with this list. I'm holding this paper and all these names that don't mean anything to me yet are circled with notes and stars denoting city size and "cool" factor. And I'm thinking- what if my future husband is here? And here I go, crossing it out, because it's Iowa! I'm discriminating against my future husband because his state sucks?
There's no erasing a pen, either. That boy is just out of luck!
And now, see, after a good week of researching cities and schools I'm down to a solid ten. I have a favorite, though. And it's tiny but it's in a huge city between two beautiful rivers. It's got one of the prettiest skylines in the US. And crime is so low that it's been rated "The Most Livable City" in the US today
...Pittsburgh? Wow, who pictured me in Pittsburgh? It's like... freezing up there, right?
But yeah. I've picked my major. My idea of a new life. And I hope... I hope that this school that I circled four or five times...well, I just want something to happen there. I want life to start.
(what comes next?)
Geez, it's been seven months since I've written anything. And really, I'm sitting here with a basic idea of what I want to write and what I'm trying to convey. I'm just waiting for inspiration or an idea but I just keep thinking-
what comes next?
Ha! See there! I've already got it.
That. There. I've already pin pointed what brought me back to this computer screen in the first place. This hanging question that every one around me seems to have the answer to. What does come next?
I'm so type A. I have spirals and binders and lists and pen marks and chicken scratch all over the place. It's chaos but it's still a perfectly organized "Where-am-I-going?" I started with a web site that let me choose thousands of schools and it narrowed my choice down to only seventy. I had to cross out twelve or so that devoted themselves to Catholicism or Judaism. Some were 'historically black serving" or "historically hispanic serving". No scholarships to be had there.
Another twenty were crossed out due to the "town" being the size of a public mall. Yikes...
And now I'm left with this list. I'm holding this paper and all these names that don't mean anything to me yet are circled with notes and stars denoting city size and "cool" factor. And I'm thinking- what if my future husband is here? And here I go, crossing it out, because it's Iowa! I'm discriminating against my future husband because his state sucks?
There's no erasing a pen, either. That boy is just out of luck!
And now, see, after a good week of researching cities and schools I'm down to a solid ten. I have a favorite, though. And it's tiny but it's in a huge city between two beautiful rivers. It's got one of the prettiest skylines in the US. And crime is so low that it's been rated "The Most Livable City" in the US today
...Pittsburgh? Wow, who pictured me in Pittsburgh? It's like... freezing up there, right?
But yeah. I've picked my major. My idea of a new life. And I hope... I hope that this school that I circled four or five times...well, I just want something to happen there. I want life to start.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Life, Love, and Venti Iced Lattes
My coffee is warm in my hands and I wonder why you like the iced version in February. We always order venti and neither of us can finish the full cup. Oh- but it only costs pennies more..!
Spring should be here soon and I look at my watch to double check. At all the apartment complexes and businesses that we pass, the crape myrtles have been brutally chopped to an awkward nakedness and other bushes are three inches tall again. It's kind of bizarre how things will sprout green from the severed trees. I guess there's always hope for us.
I smack smack my lips while you stir your peach yogurt. It's my least favorite flavor but my most favorite person. The spoon is cold and the yogurt, plain- but the skin on our shoulders is warm and electric when we touch. The movies we rented pile precariously high and the books we purchased gather dust. Our cell phones light up. Everything is so lazy how it just sits there- I even had the thought not to write.
We put our pocket change into the piggy bank I bought you when we were together in Vancouver. Soon we will have enough to feel secure in our decision to buy the venti and pour the last bit into the drain.
Spring should be here soon and I look at my watch to double check. At all the apartment complexes and businesses that we pass, the crape myrtles have been brutally chopped to an awkward nakedness and other bushes are three inches tall again. It's kind of bizarre how things will sprout green from the severed trees. I guess there's always hope for us.
I smack smack my lips while you stir your peach yogurt. It's my least favorite flavor but my most favorite person. The spoon is cold and the yogurt, plain- but the skin on our shoulders is warm and electric when we touch. The movies we rented pile precariously high and the books we purchased gather dust. Our cell phones light up. Everything is so lazy how it just sits there- I even had the thought not to write.
We put our pocket change into the piggy bank I bought you when we were together in Vancouver. Soon we will have enough to feel secure in our decision to buy the venti and pour the last bit into the drain.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Baby, Baby
We bought one of those kits full of affectionate magentic words and stuck them all over the fridge. Sentences grew out of the goulash and drove around the surface like little cars. Today they say-
"Sunshine- that is where you are!"
This is very deep and meaningful. The words next to it grew jealous of the attention this particular phrase was getting, and sometime during the night, formed
"There is a heaven I have- it is you, you, you!"
Clearly my magnetic friends are in love with me so I had to tell Ilya that it was I who created these mystery phrases while he wasn't looking. The overwhelming love and creativity being directed at him ofcourse! Which is the way he likes it.
Oh baby, baby, love is my purpose in life.
"Sunshine- that is where you are!"
This is very deep and meaningful. The words next to it grew jealous of the attention this particular phrase was getting, and sometime during the night, formed
"There is a heaven I have- it is you, you, you!"
Clearly my magnetic friends are in love with me so I had to tell Ilya that it was I who created these mystery phrases while he wasn't looking. The overwhelming love and creativity being directed at him ofcourse! Which is the way he likes it.
Oh baby, baby, love is my purpose in life.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Eight Shades of Blue
Wicked high on my thoughts- I'm feeding it with dead leaves and dried memories, like a bonfire of color. I'm telling you everything I never would, saying anything that comes to mind. I'm hung on the moon, hung on your every word, sitting in a pool of yellow.
Drunk on moonshine. High on thoughts. Baby, I'm under the influence-
of you, Jack (and the beanstalk, ofcourse)
He's higher than me, even.
Life is so interesting. He thinks he's more lost than he's ever been, and I think I've finally found myself. Neither of us knows what tomorrow holds, or even if tomorrow will come for either of us.
Surely it's down the rabbit hole for me. Lost, wicked lost. And him with the mushroom at the door that will finally explain everything. Baby, can't be lost until you have a place you're headed.
Tonight I enjoyed a cup of tea with the lights out. I listened to a song with my eyes closed. I drew a picture of you with the paint brush between my teeth. And baby, it all turned out so beautiful. The tea was warm, like you. The song was soft. The picture was a total failure, but it would have made you laugh. And there was a beauty in all eight shades of blue.
When you get home I hope you hug me and cover me up.
Drunk on moonshine. High on thoughts. Baby, I'm under the influence-
of you, Jack (and the beanstalk, ofcourse)
He's higher than me, even.
Life is so interesting. He thinks he's more lost than he's ever been, and I think I've finally found myself. Neither of us knows what tomorrow holds, or even if tomorrow will come for either of us.
Surely it's down the rabbit hole for me. Lost, wicked lost. And him with the mushroom at the door that will finally explain everything. Baby, can't be lost until you have a place you're headed.
Tonight I enjoyed a cup of tea with the lights out. I listened to a song with my eyes closed. I drew a picture of you with the paint brush between my teeth. And baby, it all turned out so beautiful. The tea was warm, like you. The song was soft. The picture was a total failure, but it would have made you laugh. And there was a beauty in all eight shades of blue.
When you get home I hope you hug me and cover me up.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Wedding Tea
The Story of A Delicious Mystery
I met this tea canister today with absolutely no description on it, no origin of flavor or fancy flower, but only "The Wedding Tea". Amidst the other tell-all tins marked "Cinnamon Roast" and "Green Tea" and "Crysanthemum", my curiosity was piqued. What is this ones flavor? Do you drink it before a wedding? Should you toast with it right after the wedding? Should your guests drink it during the wedding to bring good luck (or to cover the wine on their bachelor-party breath)? Maybe! Just maybe it was a tea that brought good luck and weddings and sorts of things to romantic girls. So I bought the tea satchets, five to be exact, and took them to dinner to meet Ilya. It was the best tea I ever had. And that's got to be basically what's wrong with me lately.
Things kind of get muddled when you deal with a clarity that you didn't want to. It's like I had this idea, I stewed it and set it down in front of us and shared it with you during dinner. We'll both admit that we like it, it's smooth, not fancy and complicated or from somewhere far away that we'll never get to go to. It's simple, and it's very clearly labeled without frills. And day after day I wonder "Well, what was it we talked about? Did we ever even make any plans, or just toss around the idea of drinking tea together, far away, for as long as we have it?" Well see, I don't really know what it is, I guess. It certainly isn't as plain and easy to find as Green Tea or Earl Grey. And certainly is much more fun than the Earl or any shade of green. It's indescribable and I only have four little satchets left. It's terrifying to feel like it's running out and I don't even quite fully understand what it is yet.
Not all things are so simply defined or so delicious in their mystery. I had to force myself not to google the tea, reminding myself that I liked it, I didn't need to know the details of how it had happened.
Oh, I guess you don't have to know what you're smelling to enjoy it. Hovering over the mug on your back porch in the coldest weather and you think man, that lemon and honey really just... it just hits the spot. Good thing I knew exactly what to expect, or else I might have picked the wrong jam to go with it! Geez, what a catashtrophe. I can't believe I chanced it with the unlabeled Wedding Tea. Now that I think about it, the second bag might even taste different than the first! I could keep buying it, not knowing what to expect, and taste the same thing every day for six years ..until...
Well, I just hope that you're there to enjoy the other half of the mug of Wedding Tea that tastes suspicially unlike the previous six years of tea. Maybe that's what I was trying to get at. Experience something different together- maybe I should quit trying to put words to it.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Rocket Man
"Oh yes I would!"
Upon asking if I would travel into space with you:
"Those planets are so far away. One year, one year and you've lost everything you left behind. Would you?"
Who decides how time passes? Who warps and changes the digits to pass differently than they always have? "Always" is a word kind of like "forever." It implies this thing that change can't touch.
I was told that the best way to time-travel is to do it drunk. I was also told the best secret when you were drunk. You may never remember telling me either one. It was basically the same thing, anyway. My best friend keeps saying "would you?"... "Well, would you?" And mostly I just don't want to lose her. Or you.
Life as we know it
is usually boring until someone asks you to change for them.
Leave your "always" and "forever"s at this place here.
Turn them around, send them into space.
It's hard to imagine telling the truth to someone who could potentially laugh in your face with it. Control your laughter for a moment; know that I practiced for three hours trying to say this right. Know that it's hard to put the words in order, that I'm scared into shaking. But know what I'm saying to you.
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