quest.
i called my grandmother today. i think she's dying. i called to get her address so i can start writing her letters and sending her pictures of my friends and me. she's a wonderful woman, and i'd like to connect with her past the exchanges we have. the times when we see each other every couple of months, or when my dad hands me the phone on some idle afternoon, they shouldn't be enough for me. I want to know her past her wrinkled skin, that i onced believed could be ironed out. I just really want to have reasons of why I love her. it isn't a valiant effort, i want to stress that. i just think every human being has the right to be known, dying, family, whatever. talking isn't necessarily communicating, and i don't want to know that more then ever after she's gone. whether it be in short time or not.
my dad bought me three pretty sweet sweaters today and that glorious thrift town. the store was playing motown music the whole time we were in there. while in the little boy's section there was this older black woman singing along to the songs. oh man, i loved her the whole i was in there. really loved her. she doesn't even know how happy she made me feel. i met her again near the shoes and she was improvising her own tune alongside of "who's that lady?". i just knew that when she was younger she was the coolest girl in school. acting however she wanted to act, yelling out at strangers, making the whole world laugh.
"maybe the poets were right, maybe love is the only answer"-woody allen
that quote is written outside of the fine arts hall.
this week without lies or secrets or laughing i can say this: i love my sister(s), i love my best friend becky, i love my mother's hugs, i love the weather, short stories, poetry, and i love what my teachers have taught whether it applies to their subject or not.
and laughing: i love my hair, friendz, thoughtfulness, and drawing.
i'm starting a new project.
"A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy. All noble things are touched with that" I'd like to think they're flying over a frosty heavy sea.
my dad bought me three pretty sweet sweaters today and that glorious thrift town. the store was playing motown music the whole time we were in there. while in the little boy's section there was this older black woman singing along to the songs. oh man, i loved her the whole i was in there. really loved her. she doesn't even know how happy she made me feel. i met her again near the shoes and she was improvising her own tune alongside of "who's that lady?". i just knew that when she was younger she was the coolest girl in school. acting however she wanted to act, yelling out at strangers, making the whole world laugh.
"maybe the poets were right, maybe love is the only answer"-woody allen
that quote is written outside of the fine arts hall.
this week without lies or secrets or laughing i can say this: i love my sister(s), i love my best friend becky, i love my mother's hugs, i love the weather, short stories, poetry, and i love what my teachers have taught whether it applies to their subject or not.
and laughing: i love my hair, friendz, thoughtfulness, and drawing.
i'm starting a new project.
"A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy. All noble things are touched with that" I'd like to think they're flying over a frosty heavy sea.