the good list, the boring good list, the sentimental boring good list
On the sold-out train this morning, I got paired with a wrinkled lady named Magda. She left the most polite voice mail messages for her friends and offered me apple quarters out of a plastic bag.
Would you like another apple quarter? she said, thick accented. Magda kept everything in plastic bags, even her cell phone (which she handled like a rubix cube).
I come from a country called Czechoslovakia,
I am a painter, too, she confessed.
So we had these things in common. She wore lipstick the color of Barbie boxes. Anselm Keifer and James Joyce and Guatemala. Everything outside - copper and silver, mud and milk. Stepping over her suitcase, overloaded, she put her hand on my shoulder saying My good wishes for you, dear. I put my hand on her shoulder and the train lurched, stumbled. Replacing my hand on her shoulder, Thank you. Stay warm!
Connecticut is cold, it did get cold again even though we pretended it wouldn't again. I ducked into the station, watched the doors open and close until my feet got numb. By the time my mom got outta school and picked me up, I was at the fitness center drinking coffee with the guy who likes Grisham novels. He can only read for sheer pleasure, these days. He looked at my stack, said That's a knock in the head-Whatever does the trick! and I said, Whatever keeps you going! and he handed me some sugar.
At the fish market, me and Ma shared a snapple and bought squid. I kissed her on the cheek and stared at the big red eyes of the big red dead snappers. I touched the lobsters with elastic bands on their claws. Amazing, these creatures. Amazing, the crazy things us creatures do. 'How strange it is to be anything at all ...'
After I drove up the long windy road to Katie's house, she showed me the picture of her hooded-hidden baby face on the baby wall. I kissed her mother on the cheek and we ate clementines. When we tried to drive down the long windy road, a tree fell and we took the backwards quiet stopless route instead.
In the basement at the Space (thespace.tk), the everybodyfields (theeverybodyfields.com) played the sweetest songs in the sweetest place; Angel voices, hitting apples with a baseball bat in August. Everybody was trying hard to sing what it is to be here (to be here with a heart) and everybody was listening even if it was bad.
At the same old diner, Katie let me talk about all the stupid things and helped me feel good and whole again. I like taking some time to admire her tonight. Everything smells nice here - burning wood and clean metal, moss and snow. German beer, purring cats.
Greg wants to make things happen, he will. We'll go to Mexico! I'll xerox a bunch of little books of little drawings.
There are so many things and so many people to be grateful for today.
Would you like another apple quarter? she said, thick accented. Magda kept everything in plastic bags, even her cell phone (which she handled like a rubix cube).
I come from a country called Czechoslovakia,
I am a painter, too, she confessed.
So we had these things in common. She wore lipstick the color of Barbie boxes. Anselm Keifer and James Joyce and Guatemala. Everything outside - copper and silver, mud and milk. Stepping over her suitcase, overloaded, she put her hand on my shoulder saying My good wishes for you, dear. I put my hand on her shoulder and the train lurched, stumbled. Replacing my hand on her shoulder, Thank you. Stay warm!
Connecticut is cold, it did get cold again even though we pretended it wouldn't again. I ducked into the station, watched the doors open and close until my feet got numb. By the time my mom got outta school and picked me up, I was at the fitness center drinking coffee with the guy who likes Grisham novels. He can only read for sheer pleasure, these days. He looked at my stack, said That's a knock in the head-Whatever does the trick! and I said, Whatever keeps you going! and he handed me some sugar.
At the fish market, me and Ma shared a snapple and bought squid. I kissed her on the cheek and stared at the big red eyes of the big red dead snappers. I touched the lobsters with elastic bands on their claws. Amazing, these creatures. Amazing, the crazy things us creatures do. 'How strange it is to be anything at all ...'
After I drove up the long windy road to Katie's house, she showed me the picture of her hooded-hidden baby face on the baby wall. I kissed her mother on the cheek and we ate clementines. When we tried to drive down the long windy road, a tree fell and we took the backwards quiet stopless route instead.
In the basement at the Space (thespace.tk), the everybodyfields (theeverybodyfields.com) played the sweetest songs in the sweetest place; Angel voices, hitting apples with a baseball bat in August. Everybody was trying hard to sing what it is to be here (to be here with a heart) and everybody was listening even if it was bad.
At the same old diner, Katie let me talk about all the stupid things and helped me feel good and whole again. I like taking some time to admire her tonight. Everything smells nice here - burning wood and clean metal, moss and snow. German beer, purring cats.
Greg wants to make things happen, he will. We'll go to Mexico! I'll xerox a bunch of little books of little drawings.
There are so many things and so many people to be grateful for today.