(no subject)
Five days ago my license suspension ended. Two days ago I got back from Glacier NP. Yesterday I got car insurance, it was my father's birthday, we went to an international dance performance, and a magnificent asian fusion restaurant. Today I started teaching SAT classes again and ran around with a frisbee in the sun.
This is what I wrote while I was gone:
Glacier. After apps, a thursday. No ending at all. Dredging up only scraps. A 32-year tawny and the best family a man could ask for. Later then.
A sausage patty nearly 2 inches thick.
An asthma inhaler that requires running.
A swarm of mosquitoes like a personal stormcloud.
A flat tire, two jars of porter and a Texan named Steve. No dinner.
The sun rises early here. Gets jumbled. Burnt frozen banana. Write right. A feeling such as comes upon me away from all around. One-shoe foolish. Not the hot ache of desire unfulfilled, only cold empties and. Remembering to start gets you closer to the end than you think. The finest grains. Stretch release. At night I thought a lot. Sandwood. Just what I meant. To drive alone. Pain that persists. Not hardly a sentence among them. "I think you, my judges, may pronounce this sentence upon me with greater fear than I receive it." midnight . West Glacier
Almost crying it's so goddamn funny, the tragedy of life. Writing, look up around, writing. Everything is so unspeakably real and ragged. Simple descriptions. All our lives so much the same, though we like to think different.
Music everywhere, getting in the way of. "What do I do? What do I do right?" All the simple people with their simple pleasures. The right idea? Let's get drunk. Smother all the painful pieces of before. So happily saddened. Stay up straight. Everywhere you go. A satisfactory tragic ending. How unfortunate. "What they really need...is just a little room to breathe." Not much time now. Watery eyes. A firm hand. All the empty pages. Go on then, have a seat. After you owned it and they moved in. Crackling, grinning. So tired so quickly. Sour and passing up on smiles. Blue shine, hurting, tell me why. Still he said nothing. One and another and another. Never enough. I can see right through your shoes.
Everything carefully, eyes moving.
Alive inside.
19th of June, 2007, Ruy's 40th birthday. Prince of Wales Lodge up in Waterton. Simple statements, intent. She needs what I know, I know what she needs, a good clicking engine runs clean.
Just be the best, just have it, just do it. Such an old room to be in. Can you concoct me...? All right.
Have you ever tasted something so close to death and love? I don't remember that at all. Too late. Gotta sleep. As you goddamn please.
Again. Faded. Long walk. Shaping breath. Dizziness dispelled. Calls. Mails. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. I love you all. Good night.
The 21st. No game. Coulda, but maybe I just don't have it in me. His eyes followed her and she knew, as women somehow always know when eyes are on them. She knew and she liked it. Coulda. One more miss, maybe. Yet still I cannot regret what I've done. No role model, I. A certain satisfaction, killing with looks. Change the angle of a man, change the man. Maybe I should write it all down, the best happenings- sex, music; let the good times roll into words.
Arboreal burial ground, thousands of bone-dry twig fingers all reaching for the sky.
Nodded his head. Why not? After tea the drinks began. Aggravation over sister-cousin's birthday G & T, and my ale and double citron shot barely scratched my surface. Townside for the cinema, J and I pick up a mickey of brandy while the rest walk lakeside. We start to sap in a playground across the corner. The sun is setting over the looming cliff, the clouds are unbelievable. The movie is Knocked Up, I remember some of it and probably laughed a few times. The actress had great breasts. Afterward for planned pizza, we're seated and then I'm back outside by the car I decide to take a walk. Dark street, at the end a lightpost I head towards. Left then back right I find myself at a waterfall, rushing white in the moonlight. I don't know why I have car keys in my pocket. Does somebody need them? Back to the parlor, wrong street then cut through to button flashing car, worried folks eating sausage and garlic. Next morning ham and cheesewich and walking, placid deer, lakeshore view, and a fine sunbathing pair that sat up to shout and wave beckoning arms after she saw me looking over at her body laying there. I turned my head at her cries, considered going over to her, then walked away.
This is what I wrote while I was gone:
Glacier. After apps, a thursday. No ending at all. Dredging up only scraps. A 32-year tawny and the best family a man could ask for. Later then.
A sausage patty nearly 2 inches thick.
An asthma inhaler that requires running.
A swarm of mosquitoes like a personal stormcloud.
A flat tire, two jars of porter and a Texan named Steve. No dinner.
The sun rises early here. Gets jumbled. Burnt frozen banana. Write right. A feeling such as comes upon me away from all around. One-shoe foolish. Not the hot ache of desire unfulfilled, only cold empties and. Remembering to start gets you closer to the end than you think. The finest grains. Stretch release. At night I thought a lot. Sandwood. Just what I meant. To drive alone. Pain that persists. Not hardly a sentence among them. "I think you, my judges, may pronounce this sentence upon me with greater fear than I receive it." midnight . West Glacier
Almost crying it's so goddamn funny, the tragedy of life. Writing, look up around, writing. Everything is so unspeakably real and ragged. Simple descriptions. All our lives so much the same, though we like to think different.
Music everywhere, getting in the way of. "What do I do? What do I do right?" All the simple people with their simple pleasures. The right idea? Let's get drunk. Smother all the painful pieces of before. So happily saddened. Stay up straight. Everywhere you go. A satisfactory tragic ending. How unfortunate. "What they really need...is just a little room to breathe." Not much time now. Watery eyes. A firm hand. All the empty pages. Go on then, have a seat. After you owned it and they moved in. Crackling, grinning. So tired so quickly. Sour and passing up on smiles. Blue shine, hurting, tell me why. Still he said nothing. One and another and another. Never enough. I can see right through your shoes.
Everything carefully, eyes moving.
Alive inside.
19th of June, 2007, Ruy's 40th birthday. Prince of Wales Lodge up in Waterton. Simple statements, intent. She needs what I know, I know what she needs, a good clicking engine runs clean.
Just be the best, just have it, just do it. Such an old room to be in. Can you concoct me...? All right.
Have you ever tasted something so close to death and love? I don't remember that at all. Too late. Gotta sleep. As you goddamn please.
Again. Faded. Long walk. Shaping breath. Dizziness dispelled. Calls. Mails. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. I love you all. Good night.
The 21st. No game. Coulda, but maybe I just don't have it in me. His eyes followed her and she knew, as women somehow always know when eyes are on them. She knew and she liked it. Coulda. One more miss, maybe. Yet still I cannot regret what I've done. No role model, I. A certain satisfaction, killing with looks. Change the angle of a man, change the man. Maybe I should write it all down, the best happenings- sex, music; let the good times roll into words.
Arboreal burial ground, thousands of bone-dry twig fingers all reaching for the sky.
Nodded his head. Why not? After tea the drinks began. Aggravation over sister-cousin's birthday G & T, and my ale and double citron shot barely scratched my surface. Townside for the cinema, J and I pick up a mickey of brandy while the rest walk lakeside. We start to sap in a playground across the corner. The sun is setting over the looming cliff, the clouds are unbelievable. The movie is Knocked Up, I remember some of it and probably laughed a few times. The actress had great breasts. Afterward for planned pizza, we're seated and then I'm back outside by the car I decide to take a walk. Dark street, at the end a lightpost I head towards. Left then back right I find myself at a waterfall, rushing white in the moonlight. I don't know why I have car keys in my pocket. Does somebody need them? Back to the parlor, wrong street then cut through to button flashing car, worried folks eating sausage and garlic. Next morning ham and cheesewich and walking, placid deer, lakeshore view, and a fine sunbathing pair that sat up to shout and wave beckoning arms after she saw me looking over at her body laying there. I turned my head at her cries, considered going over to her, then walked away.