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"Is · that · all · there · is?"


"If that's all there is, then lets keep dancing."

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So I met this guy. He's cute, six feet, an air sign like me...and he's also white. Ok, ok. I know I dated a white boy for three years, but that ended badly. Really badly. Only the race issue had nothing whatsoever to do with it, so nevermind. Maybe I'm just nervous. Ever since Russ I've been dipping in my own pool, and honestly it's a little easier being naked when the other person is brown too. In fact, a lot of things are easier when you're the same color. He might be worth it though. I haven't met a guy that gets me in a long time. We'll see.
Current Mood:
contemplative contemplative
Current Music:
Hendrix - Little Wing
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I'm thinking about reapplying to PoetrySlamming [it's been about a year]. So I'd really appreciate comments from you guys. This is a Sestina [six stanzas, and one envoi, using six words that must be systematically arranged] thanks!

The Long Walk ThereCollapse )

Tags:

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today is a winter Sunday
we wear our heavy coats,
the soul of my sister is pure
[though she doesn't think so]
ohh one for sorrow, two for joy.

we walk the whole two miles to Holly.
i want to hold her hand but i don't.
the thoughts of my sister
where and when they fly, i don't know
ohh one for sorrow, two for joy.

everything is going to be much better in the spring.

today is a winter Sunday, we wear our heavy coats,
the soul of my sister is pure,
[though she doesn't think so]
ohhh one for sorrow, two for joy.

Tags:

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So I've always had this little problem with the dark when I was a kid. It wasn't really a problem so much though, because my sisters and I had bunk-beds when we were little. Jac got the top bed, and Nik and I had to share the bottom because we were both epileptic and my mother was afraid we'd start seizing and fall off the top. So as far back as I can remember, I've had someone laying next to me when I sleep. And it wasn't always great. Sometimes Nikki wet the bed. Sometimes we'd kick each other on accident, but most times it was just us, asleep like spoons, oblivious and probably drooling on each other. It was nice. So now, when it's four a.m., and I can't sleep, I miss my sisters.

But now I have this new friend Ian from New Orleans. He's sweet, he likes literature and marijuana, and he seems to like having someone to sleep next to too. I fell asleep at 2am last night. He's perfect.
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Let one or two she loves
be in the next room. Let the door
be closed, the sleeping ones healthy.
Let her have time, and silence,
enough paper to make mistakes and go on.
-"The Poet" Jane Hirshfield
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I was nineteen when I first heard that song. It was when I was really into Charlotte Church (before I realized that her technique is awful), and I was on my way to Chicago, and it was Christmas, and so very beautiful I thought I'd burst from all of the lights, and the way they seemed frozen bright in the sky. I used to love the stars when I was a kid. The lights against the dark used to render me motionless in the cold as a kid, my Mother would make me come inside after too long. I always wondered why it was that I don't miss the stars here. It's because I have them, bright lights everywhere, even this late, when people should be sleeping. It's as if the city knows that I'm still up, and I still need the feeling of staring at the light and feeling something suspiciously like hope. I love it here. And although I do find myself in dark, hopeless places on a far more regular basis than I ever thought possible, I wouldn't give up these Chicago years for anything. If I could do everything over again I wouldn't change a thing, and that makes me think that somehow I did something right.
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there is chaos
in the expression of
our thoughts.
too much noise sometimes.
i invoke silence with
the tobacco clouds,
that dance from my blackberry lips.
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So in addition to my not being able to sleep, and this paper, and seperate paper and presentation that I have due tomorrow, I just found out that one of my roommates is over two months behind in rent, and the other can't afford to live here anymore. Every time I feel like I've beaten the depression, it shows up again and devastates me. If it's not one fucking thing, it's another. I've realized that as an adult there are simply no easy answers.

and September can kiss my ass.

Current Mood:
depressed depressed
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This is a song he wrote called "Dinner at Eight", i revised it to practice format, but the lyrics are really nice, i think. Still not sleeping. I might go make an appointment with my doc this week.

You were the one long ago
In the drifting white snow
You left me.

So put up your fists
And i'll put up mine
No running away from
The scene of a crime.

Don't be surprised
If i wanna see the tears in your eyes.
Then i know it had to be
Long ago,
In the drifting white snow
You loved me.

Current Mood:
creative creative
Current Music:
Rufus Wainwright-Dinner at Eight
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I don't know what happened between August and the present, but I feel the melancholy coming back. Maybe it's the fall. Maybe winter is supposed to be shitty, and there's no way around it. Everything dies, and then we emerge in the spring different than we were before. I haven't slept in days. I think that insomnia is possibly the worst condition ever. I dread bedtime, when my roommates go to sleep, and I'm alone again for another six hours. It's at night when it would be really nice to have someone there with me.
Current Mood:
exhausted exhausted
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