(no subject)
my lj updates have been going nowhere. i'm trying to focus on the positive in my life: watching fireworks explode over the eagles game, singing 'tiny dancer' karaoke with my friends, reading e-mails from friends in chile, argentina, shanghai, laos, england, drinking beer and listening to sonic youth. trying focus on the present for once, trying to ignore the past & future in their efforts to oerwhelm. last night i chose sitting in my room listening to mojave 3, watching planes take off through the rain, and doing crossword puzzles over going to ping-pong night at bob&barbara's with matt. i need more quiet nights in to nurse my cold; i need to read more and write more. i need to feel less lost.
i can't help remembering a night six months ago, asleep on the deck of a boat under the stars in halong bay, or a night four months ago, on the top bunk of a train, breathing in pure, cold air (finally), and watching the sun set for hours against the mongolian horizon. but i also can't help remembering an endless, sleepless night between marrakesh and tangier, watching the station signposts pass in a language i couldn't read, let alone understand, silently cursing both the man beside me who wasn't sleeping either and the man across from me who could possibly sleep through it all. sick, frustrated, scared. or another night and a vast, empty hotel room in a pitch-black ghost town, lying awake for hours listening to the mournful creaky-swing cry of some local insect and waiting for dawn, terrified at the prospect of staying another day, equally terrified of going home, of admitting defeat.
countless lonely nights, beautiful and terrible and strange, all these memories clashing and colliding and leaving me so much more uncertain than i ever was before, wondering, how could i ever hope to even begin to know myself?
i can't help remembering a night six months ago, asleep on the deck of a boat under the stars in halong bay, or a night four months ago, on the top bunk of a train, breathing in pure, cold air (finally), and watching the sun set for hours against the mongolian horizon. but i also can't help remembering an endless, sleepless night between marrakesh and tangier, watching the station signposts pass in a language i couldn't read, let alone understand, silently cursing both the man beside me who wasn't sleeping either and the man across from me who could possibly sleep through it all. sick, frustrated, scared. or another night and a vast, empty hotel room in a pitch-black ghost town, lying awake for hours listening to the mournful creaky-swing cry of some local insect and waiting for dawn, terrified at the prospect of staying another day, equally terrified of going home, of admitting defeat.
countless lonely nights, beautiful and terrible and strange, all these memories clashing and colliding and leaving me so much more uncertain than i ever was before, wondering, how could i ever hope to even begin to know myself?