i'm in love with your ghost (livejournal: the semi-cheesy late-night edition)
sad songs are brutal on lonely evenings. as are pablo neruda love sonnets and breathtaking sunsets and quiet beds. why does separation have to feel so hard?
i keep having these moments that make appreciate seattle, so much more then i'd ever remembered. it happens randomly - i'll be walking my dog, and all of a sudden turn the corner and face a view of downtown, with the mountains behind and the water in front. or today, when walking through folklife, and being surrounding by so many bizarre, interesting, diverse people from so many different walks of life...my favorite are the street performers, who sit down anywhere and gather a crowd. they are in skinny jeans or dreadlocks or too-many piercings or traditional african clothing, and are stoned or drunk or high on life, but they all meet and gather to be apart of a sometimes profound, sometimes absurd presentation. i feel like there's not as many opportunies in other places like this. or maybe i just don't know where to look.
i've been watching an unbelievable amount of movies recently, and have many more at the int'l film festival that i'm planning to go see. i go to oregon this weekend (thank god, as i'm beginning to feel suffocated in this little town) and will see emma and nora et al...and hopefully then will go up to vancouver, where sean is and where i can legally drink (both are excellent incentives). i will stop spending so much time at half price books and various (usually vintage) clothing stores, and instead buy a couple of items i need (SHOES, primarily) and explore a lot more of the city. i'm planning a self-guided gallery tour sometime in the next few weeks, so if anyone knows anything about the seattle art scene and has recommendations, they would be highly appreciated. and then i leave june 24! i keep fluctuating between thoughts of how far away the day is, and how incredibly soon it will arrive.
living in the city also has its definite advantages, though my parents are thinking about selling our edmonds house and i love it to death. though i see the appeal of of never having to drive more than a couple miles to get into the downtown area (and virtually everywhere you ever want to go), i miss the water and beach in edmonds and our yard and the so undeniably victorian architecture of the house. and here, i don't really feel home.
also, i miss my privacy so much! and being able to wake up in the morning on the weekend, bid brad goodbye, lock the door and do whatever the fuck i want for however long i want, without anyone knowing what i do or when/how i do it. and it's ironic, but there's something so freeing about shutting yourself away and reveling in complete alone-ness.
it's iris' birthday today, and i need to do last-minute shopping.
'i miss you achingly,' he said, and i thought it perfectly captured the feeling i have when we're in the middle of a long phone conversation and there's a lull in dialogue, when we're both not saying anything and just listening to eachother breathe. and really, in that empty silence - we're aching.
Like This
If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
Like this.
When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the night sky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,
Like this.
If anyone wants to know what "spirit" is,
or what "God’s fragrance" means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.
Like this.
When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.
Like this.
If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.
Like this. Like this.
When someone asks what it means
to "die for love," point
here.
If someone asks how tall I am, frown
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.
This tall.
The soul sometimes leaves the body, the returns.
When someone doesn’t believe that,
walk back into my house.
Like this.
When lovers moan,
they’re telling our story.
Like this.
I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.
Like this.
When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in his hand.
Like this.
How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob?
Huuuuu.
How did Jacob’s sight return?
Huuuu.
A little wind cleans the eyes.
Like this.
When Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he’ll put just his head around the edge
of the door to surprise us
Like this.
goodnight! (though it's now somehow morning, oops)
i keep having these moments that make appreciate seattle, so much more then i'd ever remembered. it happens randomly - i'll be walking my dog, and all of a sudden turn the corner and face a view of downtown, with the mountains behind and the water in front. or today, when walking through folklife, and being surrounding by so many bizarre, interesting, diverse people from so many different walks of life...my favorite are the street performers, who sit down anywhere and gather a crowd. they are in skinny jeans or dreadlocks or too-many piercings or traditional african clothing, and are stoned or drunk or high on life, but they all meet and gather to be apart of a sometimes profound, sometimes absurd presentation. i feel like there's not as many opportunies in other places like this. or maybe i just don't know where to look.
i've been watching an unbelievable amount of movies recently, and have many more at the int'l film festival that i'm planning to go see. i go to oregon this weekend (thank god, as i'm beginning to feel suffocated in this little town) and will see emma and nora et al...and hopefully then will go up to vancouver, where sean is and where i can legally drink (both are excellent incentives). i will stop spending so much time at half price books and various (usually vintage) clothing stores, and instead buy a couple of items i need (SHOES, primarily) and explore a lot more of the city. i'm planning a self-guided gallery tour sometime in the next few weeks, so if anyone knows anything about the seattle art scene and has recommendations, they would be highly appreciated. and then i leave june 24! i keep fluctuating between thoughts of how far away the day is, and how incredibly soon it will arrive.
living in the city also has its definite advantages, though my parents are thinking about selling our edmonds house and i love it to death. though i see the appeal of of never having to drive more than a couple miles to get into the downtown area (and virtually everywhere you ever want to go), i miss the water and beach in edmonds and our yard and the so undeniably victorian architecture of the house. and here, i don't really feel home.
also, i miss my privacy so much! and being able to wake up in the morning on the weekend, bid brad goodbye, lock the door and do whatever the fuck i want for however long i want, without anyone knowing what i do or when/how i do it. and it's ironic, but there's something so freeing about shutting yourself away and reveling in complete alone-ness.
it's iris' birthday today, and i need to do last-minute shopping.
'i miss you achingly,' he said, and i thought it perfectly captured the feeling i have when we're in the middle of a long phone conversation and there's a lull in dialogue, when we're both not saying anything and just listening to eachother breathe. and really, in that empty silence - we're aching.
Like This
If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
Like this.
When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the night sky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,
Like this.
If anyone wants to know what "spirit" is,
or what "God’s fragrance" means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.
Like this.
When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.
Like this.
If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.
Like this. Like this.
When someone asks what it means
to "die for love," point
here.
If someone asks how tall I am, frown
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.
This tall.
The soul sometimes leaves the body, the returns.
When someone doesn’t believe that,
walk back into my house.
Like this.
When lovers moan,
they’re telling our story.
Like this.
I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.
Like this.
When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in his hand.
Like this.
How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob?
Huuuuu.
How did Jacob’s sight return?
Huuuu.
A little wind cleans the eyes.
Like this.
When Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he’ll put just his head around the edge
of the door to surprise us
Like this.
goodnight! (though it's now somehow morning, oops)