(no subject)
This week, I've decided that what I would like the most is someone to sit on my shoulder and make my decisions for me. Someone to lean in, tell me all I need to hear: Take that class, read this book, eat this for lunch, say that to him. Try this flavor, wear that sweater, sip this drink, don't waste your time. Make that smile, find that friend; and do not think of him, and do not dream of him. And if you do, don't dwell all day, but put your shoes on, meet that something new. Just let it come to you. All this advice exists inside of me, but I just never listen. (I've got to learn how.)
My favorite moment of this week was flying with you, we tilted our heads back and your hair smelled like the sun. "Look, we're in the sky now," I said, and I could feel your laughing on my chest, all the light leaping from your mouth. Sometimes I feel like I've fallen much too deeply, and I start thinking that three months is so much time, even too much time, to be away.
My shiny speakers have become my favorite weapon against the steady barrage of drum kits; I turn up my subwoofers which beat out much sweeter sounds, avey tare and panda bear, or phil at his least tranquil....and I hope they hate it. I hope they reach for their oversized headphones in panic, and their trembling fingers can barely press play to bring a soothing stream of something typical (pink floyd, or the white album) back to their ears. I am becoming too cynical...and it's not that I don't love noise, I just want to love my own noise, right now.
Meanwhile, I’ve let my itunes shuffle randomly, and it’s found some forgotten, bland hip-hop song that’s a few years old; I find myself shamefully identifying with the lyrics, “I wanna be real witchu." You know, I have a thousand things I could and should be doing, but I suppose I’ve chosen to sit in my bed, eyes out the window, matching songs of ever decreasing quality to my thoughts and feelings of you. Which may or may not be something to laugh at.
I forgot that I wanted to talk about, something new, something that I've got to keep reminding myself of. Spontaneous, like what might bloom, this time will be new knocks at the door, spills on the floor, love right through the gaps in your teeth. And that's what I'll look for, (wouldn't it be nice?)