feet first
i'm walking through days that have lost their stories. either they are amnesiac days, slow and undercut by fog, or they're spongy days that drop their metaphors halfway through.
yesterday my friend said "i have something for you," and she pressed a small green marble into my hand. she had followed it forever down a hill and trapped it eventually against the curb. half an hour before i came to her house, her boyfriend had left for school and she almost gave him the marble when she realized she didn't have a goodbye present for him, but she knew it should be mine. that's what she told me, just before she left again.
today i ran into a girl i knew on the bus. i guess i should call her a woman, though, because that's what you say when someone's graduated from college and come back to san francisco to settle in. we talked about our schools and mothers and languages. her mom is danish and used to train horses in an arabic circus, but now she's sweet and mellow. we eased into conversation like kids into the cold pool, smiling and complaining just to make a connection.
there's an edge in my voice when i perform these days, and i don't like it. i'm not all down on myself or anything, i'm just coming up slowly. i haven't hit my stride yet this season, but i know enough to be willing to wait for it. first days and weeks are rough on me because although i need to keep moving, i am a creature of habit. sometimes i think every one of my livejournal entries is a variation on the theme of almost, but that's ok. this is not an almost, it's an ok.
yesterday my friend said "i have something for you," and she pressed a small green marble into my hand. she had followed it forever down a hill and trapped it eventually against the curb. half an hour before i came to her house, her boyfriend had left for school and she almost gave him the marble when she realized she didn't have a goodbye present for him, but she knew it should be mine. that's what she told me, just before she left again.
today i ran into a girl i knew on the bus. i guess i should call her a woman, though, because that's what you say when someone's graduated from college and come back to san francisco to settle in. we talked about our schools and mothers and languages. her mom is danish and used to train horses in an arabic circus, but now she's sweet and mellow. we eased into conversation like kids into the cold pool, smiling and complaining just to make a connection.
there's an edge in my voice when i perform these days, and i don't like it. i'm not all down on myself or anything, i'm just coming up slowly. i haven't hit my stride yet this season, but i know enough to be willing to wait for it. first days and weeks are rough on me because although i need to keep moving, i am a creature of habit. sometimes i think every one of my livejournal entries is a variation on the theme of almost, but that's ok. this is not an almost, it's an ok.