Slinking around in the Skin of Night.
The rain is coming and I'm surrounded by ghosts tonight.
I had dinner with LO'B tonight and then took the King car home. Today was hot, but one of the only good things about that is the cool nights that follow the hot days. As I walked part of the way home passing bars and patios with people spilling out of them onto the sidewalks smoking and talking, I felt like a troller of lives snagging snippets of conversations and moods, extrapolating the rest, and marvelling at how open people can seem when they are unaware that someone is paying attention to them. Break-ups, arguments, new love, sexual chemistry, vicious gossip, shop talk, grand plans, and no plans beyond tomorrow. Everything becomes obtainable and streamlined at night. I love the night - I always have.
Walking through a certain neighbourhood, I felt the presence of old ghosts following me, picking at my clothes and my new life - so far away from where I had left them. The ghosts come back when I least expect them: they remind me of the girl that I once was and how unhappy that I was in that life. I can see them, feel them, and hear them as if they were real people in front of me - I wonder where that girl went: how did she change and the ghosts did not? At night, the ghosts have power. The power to drag me back into their world on the wave of a feeling or a memory. Sometimes I miss them, as if I gave up a special, secret part of me in a exchange for my sanity. I want to be me - I like who I am - but I miss the parts that I left behind with the ghosts as well. They lurk in abandoned lots and under overpasses in the shadows. When the warm night air starts to smell sweet and cool with the promise of rain, I want to go sit with them in the long shadows of forgotten buildings and have a drink. Maybe two. I have to resist it. I can't go back - I love life too much - but that won't stop them from calling out to me.
damn. who needs a cigarette......................
I had dinner with LO'B tonight and then took the King car home. Today was hot, but one of the only good things about that is the cool nights that follow the hot days. As I walked part of the way home passing bars and patios with people spilling out of them onto the sidewalks smoking and talking, I felt like a troller of lives snagging snippets of conversations and moods, extrapolating the rest, and marvelling at how open people can seem when they are unaware that someone is paying attention to them. Break-ups, arguments, new love, sexual chemistry, vicious gossip, shop talk, grand plans, and no plans beyond tomorrow. Everything becomes obtainable and streamlined at night. I love the night - I always have.
Walking through a certain neighbourhood, I felt the presence of old ghosts following me, picking at my clothes and my new life - so far away from where I had left them. The ghosts come back when I least expect them: they remind me of the girl that I once was and how unhappy that I was in that life. I can see them, feel them, and hear them as if they were real people in front of me - I wonder where that girl went: how did she change and the ghosts did not? At night, the ghosts have power. The power to drag me back into their world on the wave of a feeling or a memory. Sometimes I miss them, as if I gave up a special, secret part of me in a exchange for my sanity. I want to be me - I like who I am - but I miss the parts that I left behind with the ghosts as well. They lurk in abandoned lots and under overpasses in the shadows. When the warm night air starts to smell sweet and cool with the promise of rain, I want to go sit with them in the long shadows of forgotten buildings and have a drink. Maybe two. I have to resist it. I can't go back - I love life too much - but that won't stop them from calling out to me.
damn. who needs a cigarette......................