he got nice jeans, wear fancy adidas...
today i got up sort of early when ben left to take a test. i went in search of a bathing suit so that i can go swimming this weekend. no luck. because there aren't any. what is with this town. more importantly, where is the black bathing suit i used to have that i liked? i think billy has it or had it and doesn't know. we went on a canoeing trip from hell last july, and that's the last time i saw it. also some pants and a bra.
speaking of pants, i splurged on a pair of nice jeans yesterday. all of my jeans are falling apart in the crotch, probably from walking miles at work.
so i bought these marvelous, glorious, well-fitting works of art:
they feel like pure sex all over my hips and legs. that sounds delicious.
i will not wear them to work.
and speaking of pure sex all over my hips, today claire, kristen and i got lunch together and discussed the low sex drive (relative to females) of all males in our experience. funny how they think it's the other way around. apparently we need to get us some 17-year-olds...
oh so i actually came to the library to research graduate schools... what the shit?
ben started telling me the other night what he plans to do with the rest of his life, and i got all freaked out like, "everyone i know is making plans and doing real things and i was pretty much just planning on being a waitress or a barista forever wtf wtf i'm going to be in boone for the rest of my miserable life"
this usually doesn't worry me too much, and i am partly disappointed in myself, partly thinking maybe it's actually a good idea.
also i thought
On more than one occasion I have been ready to abandon my whole life for love. To alter everything that makes sense to me and to move into a different world where the only known will be the beloved. Such a sacrifice must be the result of love... or is that that the life itself was already worn out? I had finished with that life, perhaps, and could not admit it, being stubborn or afraid, or perhaps did not know it, habit being a great binder.
I think it is so often so that those most in need of change choose to fall in love and then throw up their hands and blame it all on fate. But it is not fate, at least, not if fate is something outside of us; it is a choice made in secret after nights of longing.
...
A man or woman sunk in dreams that cannot be spoken, about a life they do not possess, comes suddenly to a door in the wall. They open it. Beyond the door is that life and a man or woman to whom it is already natural. It may not be possessions they want, it may very well be the lack of them, but the secret life is suddenly revealed. This is their true home and this is their beloved.
I may be cynical when I say that very rarely is the beloved more than a shaping spirit for the lover's dreams. And perhaps such a thing is enough. To be a muse may be enough. The pain is when the dreams change, as they do, as they must. Suddenly the enchanted city fades and you are left alone again in the windy desert. As for your beloved, she didn't understand you. The truth is, you never understood yourself.
was kind of neat, from the book i am reading sexing the cherry. it's not awesome overall, but this part is familiar.
speaking of pants, i splurged on a pair of nice jeans yesterday. all of my jeans are falling apart in the crotch, probably from walking miles at work.
so i bought these marvelous, glorious, well-fitting works of art:
they feel like pure sex all over my hips and legs. that sounds delicious.
i will not wear them to work.
and speaking of pure sex all over my hips, today claire, kristen and i got lunch together and discussed the low sex drive (relative to females) of all males in our experience. funny how they think it's the other way around. apparently we need to get us some 17-year-olds...
oh so i actually came to the library to research graduate schools... what the shit?
ben started telling me the other night what he plans to do with the rest of his life, and i got all freaked out like, "everyone i know is making plans and doing real things and i was pretty much just planning on being a waitress or a barista forever wtf wtf i'm going to be in boone for the rest of my miserable life"
this usually doesn't worry me too much, and i am partly disappointed in myself, partly thinking maybe it's actually a good idea.
also i thought
On more than one occasion I have been ready to abandon my whole life for love. To alter everything that makes sense to me and to move into a different world where the only known will be the beloved. Such a sacrifice must be the result of love... or is that that the life itself was already worn out? I had finished with that life, perhaps, and could not admit it, being stubborn or afraid, or perhaps did not know it, habit being a great binder.
I think it is so often so that those most in need of change choose to fall in love and then throw up their hands and blame it all on fate. But it is not fate, at least, not if fate is something outside of us; it is a choice made in secret after nights of longing.
...
A man or woman sunk in dreams that cannot be spoken, about a life they do not possess, comes suddenly to a door in the wall. They open it. Beyond the door is that life and a man or woman to whom it is already natural. It may not be possessions they want, it may very well be the lack of them, but the secret life is suddenly revealed. This is their true home and this is their beloved.
I may be cynical when I say that very rarely is the beloved more than a shaping spirit for the lover's dreams. And perhaps such a thing is enough. To be a muse may be enough. The pain is when the dreams change, as they do, as they must. Suddenly the enchanted city fades and you are left alone again in the windy desert. As for your beloved, she didn't understand you. The truth is, you never understood yourself.
was kind of neat, from the book i am reading sexing the cherry. it's not awesome overall, but this part is familiar.