I have a bruise on my foot and wet pants
Hmmmmmm to start off. . .Boston weather sucks monkey balls. Yesterday it was pretty damn nice out. Last night I slept with my window open and the rain was rather calming and peaceful. This morning. . .not so much. The wind and the fucking horizontal rain made it impossible to walk up Cambridge Street. On the T. . other people's wet umbrellas soaked my pants. Not very attractive, but my boss got a kick out of it. Anyways. . .
I haven't seen my muse in a while. The last time I saw her she was standing on Cambridge Street on the middle partition separating north and south bound traffic. It was like 80 degrees and she was wearing her usual heavy green coat with the hood up. I believe it was last week that I saw her. I talked about her with Brad at work and he wondered if perhaps she is my "angel". He told me about his girlfriend Carrie's experience with an angel, or rather, alleged angel. She was on her way to Brad's place in a cab, but the driver seemed rather unusual. Not in the typical creepy cabby way, but in a "I know more about you than you realize" kind of way. He asked her, "So who's the guy?" To which she replied, "Ummmm excuse me?" Then he said, "You are off to see someone special aren't you?" Flustered and taken off guard she said, "Actually. . .yes I am." For whatever reason she got this feeling inside her that said, "This guy is connected to me and I don't know how." She never really believed in that stuff before, so when she got to Brad's and told him, "Babe, I think I met my angel" he was shocked. Brad believes in that sort of cosmic connection. He thinks that some mothers contain dense amounts of energy and when they give birth, that energy is transmitted to the child and so on and so forth. This energy allows certain people to have a "sixth sense" of sorts and the ability to connect with energies beyond the physical world. It is an eccentric concept, for sure, but hey. . .I am open minded about that sort of thing. I've had my own experiences (I won't go into detail), but they have been minimal. I do know when bad things are going to happen and I've always had that ability to sense danger. My mother has the same instinct. So. . .if this woman I keep seeing on Cambridge Street is really a "ghost" or an "angel" it would be interesting to go up to her and talk to her. She fascinates me and has no clue who I am. Maybe she does and I don't know it. Brad told me to go up to her and ask her "Is there something you need to tell me?" Maybe I'll do it, maybe I won't. Who knows.
I want to start jotting down images I see while walking to work because I seem to notice things vividly in the morning. I lose it by 5 pm and all I want to do at that point is go home. . .eat. . .and sleep. So here are flashes of things I remember from my walk this morning:
- A young girl with long dark brown hair, black and white checkered coat with matching rain boots walking through a deep puddle and not caring (probably because she had the cute, protective boots on)
- A blue USPS mailbox with pink graffiti writing on it (I couldn't make out any particular word or name or image)
- An older woman with short white hair tackling her umbrella after it turned inside out from the wind. Its insides almost burst, metal guts and shrapnel would have been everywhere.
- A small Asian man trying to squeeze out of the train door during the early morning commute to work. He was just small enough to slide through a space between a large black man and aggravated blue-blooded woman.
- The crooked movie poster in the window of Mike's Movies.
- A large, pulsating bubble on the back of a bald guy's head on the train. It looked like a roll of fat that moved from the neck and took up vacancy about an inch or two higher on the scalp. Gross.
I think that's it. . . but maybe I just grossed myself out by that last image. Yea. . I think I did.
Anyways. . . it's been a confusing time for me lately. I won't go into details, but sometimes life throws you curveballs that you either want to hit out of the park or let it strike you out. I'm not sure which way I wanna go yet. To conclude this diatribe. . . here's some song lyrics by my girl Imogen Heap:
Say goodnight and go
Skipping beats, flashing jeeps
I am struggling
Daydreaming, been sitting, the corner cafe
And I'm left in bits, recovered tectonic, trembling
You get me everytime
Why'd you have to be so cute
It's impossible to ignore you
Must you make me laugh so much
It's bad enough we get along so well
Say goodnight and go
Follow you home
You've got your headphones on
And your dancing
Got lucky, beautiful shot
You're taking everything off
Watch the curtains, wide open
And you fall in the same routine
Flicking through the TV
Relaxed and reclining
And you think you're alone
Oh why'd you have to be so cute
It's impossible to ignore you
Must you make me laugh so much
It's bad enough we get along so well
Say goodnight and go
One of these days
You'll miss your train, and come stay with me
It's always say goodnight and go
We'll have drinks and talk about things
And any excuse to stay awake with you
You'd sleep here, I'd sleep there
But then the heating may be down again
At my convenience
We'd be good, we'd be great together
Go
Why'd you have to be so cute
It's impossible to ignore you
Must you make me laugh so much
It's bad enough we get along so well
Say goodnight and go
Why is it always, always
Goodnight and Go
Goodnight and Go!
-
I haven't seen my muse in a while. The last time I saw her she was standing on Cambridge Street on the middle partition separating north and south bound traffic. It was like 80 degrees and she was wearing her usual heavy green coat with the hood up. I believe it was last week that I saw her. I talked about her with Brad at work and he wondered if perhaps she is my "angel". He told me about his girlfriend Carrie's experience with an angel, or rather, alleged angel. She was on her way to Brad's place in a cab, but the driver seemed rather unusual. Not in the typical creepy cabby way, but in a "I know more about you than you realize" kind of way. He asked her, "So who's the guy?" To which she replied, "Ummmm excuse me?" Then he said, "You are off to see someone special aren't you?" Flustered and taken off guard she said, "Actually. . .yes I am." For whatever reason she got this feeling inside her that said, "This guy is connected to me and I don't know how." She never really believed in that stuff before, so when she got to Brad's and told him, "Babe, I think I met my angel" he was shocked. Brad believes in that sort of cosmic connection. He thinks that some mothers contain dense amounts of energy and when they give birth, that energy is transmitted to the child and so on and so forth. This energy allows certain people to have a "sixth sense" of sorts and the ability to connect with energies beyond the physical world. It is an eccentric concept, for sure, but hey. . .I am open minded about that sort of thing. I've had my own experiences (I won't go into detail), but they have been minimal. I do know when bad things are going to happen and I've always had that ability to sense danger. My mother has the same instinct. So. . .if this woman I keep seeing on Cambridge Street is really a "ghost" or an "angel" it would be interesting to go up to her and talk to her. She fascinates me and has no clue who I am. Maybe she does and I don't know it. Brad told me to go up to her and ask her "Is there something you need to tell me?" Maybe I'll do it, maybe I won't. Who knows.
I want to start jotting down images I see while walking to work because I seem to notice things vividly in the morning. I lose it by 5 pm and all I want to do at that point is go home. . .eat. . .and sleep. So here are flashes of things I remember from my walk this morning:
- A young girl with long dark brown hair, black and white checkered coat with matching rain boots walking through a deep puddle and not caring (probably because she had the cute, protective boots on)
- A blue USPS mailbox with pink graffiti writing on it (I couldn't make out any particular word or name or image)
- An older woman with short white hair tackling her umbrella after it turned inside out from the wind. Its insides almost burst, metal guts and shrapnel would have been everywhere.
- A small Asian man trying to squeeze out of the train door during the early morning commute to work. He was just small enough to slide through a space between a large black man and aggravated blue-blooded woman.
- The crooked movie poster in the window of Mike's Movies.
- A large, pulsating bubble on the back of a bald guy's head on the train. It looked like a roll of fat that moved from the neck and took up vacancy about an inch or two higher on the scalp. Gross.
I think that's it. . . but maybe I just grossed myself out by that last image. Yea. . I think I did.
Anyways. . . it's been a confusing time for me lately. I won't go into details, but sometimes life throws you curveballs that you either want to hit out of the park or let it strike you out. I'm not sure which way I wanna go yet. To conclude this diatribe. . . here's some song lyrics by my girl Imogen Heap:
Say goodnight and go
Skipping beats, flashing jeeps
I am struggling
Daydreaming, been sitting, the corner cafe
And I'm left in bits, recovered tectonic, trembling
You get me everytime
Why'd you have to be so cute
It's impossible to ignore you
Must you make me laugh so much
It's bad enough we get along so well
Say goodnight and go
Follow you home
You've got your headphones on
And your dancing
Got lucky, beautiful shot
You're taking everything off
Watch the curtains, wide open
And you fall in the same routine
Flicking through the TV
Relaxed and reclining
And you think you're alone
Oh why'd you have to be so cute
It's impossible to ignore you
Must you make me laugh so much
It's bad enough we get along so well
Say goodnight and go
One of these days
You'll miss your train, and come stay with me
It's always say goodnight and go
We'll have drinks and talk about things
And any excuse to stay awake with you
You'd sleep here, I'd sleep there
But then the heating may be down again
At my convenience
We'd be good, we'd be great together
Go
Why'd you have to be so cute
It's impossible to ignore you
Must you make me laugh so much
It's bad enough we get along so well
Say goodnight and go
Why is it always, always
Goodnight and Go
Goodnight and Go!
-