i wont let myself sleep until i write it out
I'm having a hard time finding the balance between courageousness and foolishness. The line between the two is hardly there. Sketched in pencil, at best.
If I could be anywhere in the world right now besides France, it would be Chicago. More and more am I finding myself homesick for Chicago. There are so many places I can go in my future, and Chicago is definitely one of them. I love the feeling I get when I think about my childhood in that place. I get this sensation in my nose. Weird. I want to take Cyril with me to a small apartment near the area with all of the museums and that L station that I always remember and I want to kiss on the bed with him and look at ourselves in the bedside mirror. I want the lights to be dim and kind of pink and for there to be posters of Che, Obama, the human body, Miles Davis and Van Gogh paintings on the wall and a cross in the doorway.
I used to say that I was poised on the brink of womanhood when I was 15, but I think really, now I am poised on the brink of womanhood. These next four or five years are going to be big ones, I can feel it.
I saw a Matisse museum on Sunday. I do not understand Matisse. I see that in some of his painting he is vraiment talented and they are really good paintings, but then he does these lame, thick lined outlines of women or bowls of oranges and colors them with the colors that little children use and ugh! They look so cheap and easy! So bizzare.
I fucking hate eating meat.
America did it! Barack is president! I am so proud of my country, I feel like I can go back home now. I am so excited to see in the history books when they show the pictures of the presidents one after another and there will be Obama's black little head sticking out like an awesome sore thumb. I have a crush on Barack Obama. I am worried though about two things; some crazy racist/the CIA is going to kill him or he won't be able to fix us. But I'm going to hope he can.
Today you went with me to the Cathedral Fourviere because I wanted to light a candle for Obama so he wouldn't be assassinated. It cost two euros but I only had one and you whispered, "c'est pas grave" and I whispered, "okay." and looked at the sky and said, "pardon" as I dropped my euro in the bin and lit a blue candle with the virgin on it. We wandered and wandered and giggled in the park surrounding the Cathedral. I am amazed that we can still have conversations and make each other laugh even though I don't speak your language. I'm glad you can take me seriously and genuinely like talking to me even though I'm sure sound like such a crazy foreigner. I'm trying suuuuper hard to not be lazy with my past tense.
Afterwards we kissed on the chemin behind my house. Your face shines when we kiss and I can see you learning and discovering how I work. Today your fingers found my stomach and your thumbs found my ribs and you didn't want to let go. I like you a lot. I want to kiss you and touch you skin no matter where because revolutions are romantic and there are revolutions all around me, as far as I can see. In America, in me, in you, in the economy, in Iraq, in Africa, in California, in Martin Luther King's dead body, in caves, between fingers, entre walls, under covers, behind eyes. What a time this is.
If I could be anywhere in the world right now besides France, it would be Chicago. More and more am I finding myself homesick for Chicago. There are so many places I can go in my future, and Chicago is definitely one of them. I love the feeling I get when I think about my childhood in that place. I get this sensation in my nose. Weird. I want to take Cyril with me to a small apartment near the area with all of the museums and that L station that I always remember and I want to kiss on the bed with him and look at ourselves in the bedside mirror. I want the lights to be dim and kind of pink and for there to be posters of Che, Obama, the human body, Miles Davis and Van Gogh paintings on the wall and a cross in the doorway.
I used to say that I was poised on the brink of womanhood when I was 15, but I think really, now I am poised on the brink of womanhood. These next four or five years are going to be big ones, I can feel it.
I saw a Matisse museum on Sunday. I do not understand Matisse. I see that in some of his painting he is vraiment talented and they are really good paintings, but then he does these lame, thick lined outlines of women or bowls of oranges and colors them with the colors that little children use and ugh! They look so cheap and easy! So bizzare.
I fucking hate eating meat.
America did it! Barack is president! I am so proud of my country, I feel like I can go back home now. I am so excited to see in the history books when they show the pictures of the presidents one after another and there will be Obama's black little head sticking out like an awesome sore thumb. I have a crush on Barack Obama. I am worried though about two things; some crazy racist/the CIA is going to kill him or he won't be able to fix us. But I'm going to hope he can.
Today you went with me to the Cathedral Fourviere because I wanted to light a candle for Obama so he wouldn't be assassinated. It cost two euros but I only had one and you whispered, "c'est pas grave" and I whispered, "okay." and looked at the sky and said, "pardon" as I dropped my euro in the bin and lit a blue candle with the virgin on it. We wandered and wandered and giggled in the park surrounding the Cathedral. I am amazed that we can still have conversations and make each other laugh even though I don't speak your language. I'm glad you can take me seriously and genuinely like talking to me even though I'm sure sound like such a crazy foreigner. I'm trying suuuuper hard to not be lazy with my past tense.
Afterwards we kissed on the chemin behind my house. Your face shines when we kiss and I can see you learning and discovering how I work. Today your fingers found my stomach and your thumbs found my ribs and you didn't want to let go. I like you a lot. I want to kiss you and touch you skin no matter where because revolutions are romantic and there are revolutions all around me, as far as I can see. In America, in me, in you, in the economy, in Iraq, in Africa, in California, in Martin Luther King's dead body, in caves, between fingers, entre walls, under covers, behind eyes. What a time this is.
