on a rainy afternoon, i mused
the mountains in the distance, nested in thick wads of cloud - like cotton candy in the pink twilight. the mountains, ever standing on the horizon, they never fail to impress and inspire me; there were no mountains this high and this omni-present where i grew up.
i loved the evening run today, after the rain, with wet grass whipping at my calves and the air moist and clean; there were barely any people out, everyone stuck in front of their screens.
i love nights like this… and mornings, too; early on a weekend when most people are still lounging in bed. i get to do it way too seldom. i suppose i mostly appreciate the quiet. everything feels cleaner, larger somehow when you know you're one of the few already out; it feels as if a little piece of the world belonged to you.
i suppose i feel a little lonely sometimes;I talk to the cat. i read more. during my lunch break, i sit in a nearby park - just a patch of grass in front of the mall, really - and i immerse myself in my book.
i made cake tonight while it rained. i listened to "dirty love" - it may be bad, but it's also catchy - and wanted to strut, wanted to drill my body on the ice until my feet fell numb, until i could be sure my whole body would ache the following day. johnny weir, ever the inspiration, even with silly pop songs…
every once in a while, i can't help but want to be… sophisticated. and yet i'm not, never, nor bohemian like a writer-wannabe perhaps should be. a hipster, even? the real kind, not like the kids who wear skinny jeans and oversizes t-shirts and think themselves to be hipsters.
i realized that i am 27 today and how strange it is, the number is odd, like an unusual smell, a taste you're not accustomed to. when did that happen, i wonder? i was 22 just a while ago. 27 sounds like… like grown-up business, like responsibilites and being serious. like all these things i'd never expected to happen to me. sometimes i feel old. and sometimes, i feel still dreadfully young.
i used to be able to sit still. now that sitting still is what's required most of the time, i have grown restless - a little better now, but still. i should have been born a poet; the kind that doesn't mind sleeping in a barn and wanders around half-drunk and barefoot - crazy rimbaud-style. i used to read poetry…
i loved the evening run today, after the rain, with wet grass whipping at my calves and the air moist and clean; there were barely any people out, everyone stuck in front of their screens.
i love nights like this… and mornings, too; early on a weekend when most people are still lounging in bed. i get to do it way too seldom. i suppose i mostly appreciate the quiet. everything feels cleaner, larger somehow when you know you're one of the few already out; it feels as if a little piece of the world belonged to you.
i suppose i feel a little lonely sometimes;I talk to the cat. i read more. during my lunch break, i sit in a nearby park - just a patch of grass in front of the mall, really - and i immerse myself in my book.
i made cake tonight while it rained. i listened to "dirty love" - it may be bad, but it's also catchy - and wanted to strut, wanted to drill my body on the ice until my feet fell numb, until i could be sure my whole body would ache the following day. johnny weir, ever the inspiration, even with silly pop songs…
every once in a while, i can't help but want to be… sophisticated. and yet i'm not, never, nor bohemian like a writer-wannabe perhaps should be. a hipster, even? the real kind, not like the kids who wear skinny jeans and oversizes t-shirts and think themselves to be hipsters.
i realized that i am 27 today and how strange it is, the number is odd, like an unusual smell, a taste you're not accustomed to. when did that happen, i wonder? i was 22 just a while ago. 27 sounds like… like grown-up business, like responsibilites and being serious. like all these things i'd never expected to happen to me. sometimes i feel old. and sometimes, i feel still dreadfully young.
i used to be able to sit still. now that sitting still is what's required most of the time, i have grown restless - a little better now, but still. i should have been born a poet; the kind that doesn't mind sleeping in a barn and wanders around half-drunk and barefoot - crazy rimbaud-style. i used to read poetry…