<body> is you is or is you ain't my baby. <body scroll="auto">

Saturday, April 15, 2006

many things.

  1. The apartment we're looking at has a balcony, perfect for yoga in the mornings and guitar playing. There is a park across the street lined with rows of trees that promise to provide many climbing opportunities. Better yet, the park is always full of people walking their puppies. I want the affection of a puppy's company without the practicality of raising it. Wouldn't it be nice if we could have only the good side of things?


  2. All I've had today is two large coffees and two sesame seed bagels; my dietary options are in serious need of revision and broadening. Also, three people in the last week have told me to start eating red meat; nutritional reasons considered, it is alarming how ridiculously stubborn I can be.


  3. I have two exams to finish before this term is over; I can hardly wait. There is so much to look forward to in the summer. I'm still not sure how distance will change us, but I trust in this too much to think it would ruin us. That aside, my contract is also ending, and it is an understatement to say that I am estatic about never having to unwillingly mediate another conflict in my life. Also, there is playing at the concert on the lake to anticipate.


  4. I miss my brothers, lovers of reptiles and race tracks each. They are both handymen, you know, builders and assemblers of things; the oldest one with his computers and his fishing paraphernalia; the middle one with his aquariums and his cycling thingamajigs. Yes, I miss my brothers; what's taking them so long to invent the teleporting machine?


  5. Sometimes we just lie under the covers with our eyes closed, pretending we're asleep. And every now and then, I try to sneak a quick little peak at him; and sometimes, the best times really, I catch him staring at me. It reminds me of a scene in eternal sunshine, all this talk under the covers, just two souls wrapped up in sheets. And you can feel the world disappear; it has no hold, no bearing on anything. Such an intimacy arises, allowing for all those unspeakable things. And I want to write them down, all the things he says to me under these covers, all these words that pulpify my heart and leave me speechless; I want keep them with me, safely nestled between the sheets of my paperback, inked down with a kiss.


  6. Three years come tomorrow. Death must be lonely, because you are still here with me.

sherry @ 2:25:00 pm
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