A new sun lights up my balcony and I wish to ride high along with the birds that pass by. Sometimes they stop and stare but realize that I've got nothing to give so they fly away. Someone pointed out that I've been (relatively) quiet lately. I suppose I have. Part of it is that I've been sick for a few days. Her absence is making me sick. Or perhaps I'm making myself sick. Either way, the point is that I'm sick. I've got a cough that followed a runny nose and I can't sleep unless I'm heavily medicated. This cold I caught somewhere is screwing up my appetite (food, sex, love) and is making me cranky. I definitely feel abandoned. The way this journal and my waking life inform one another reminds me most frequently of the ongoing composition of a very elaborate pantoum. The problem is, I've always been far too obscure and esoteric to be in any way understood and I notice that as I grow older. I am less and less eloquent in person and more and more apparently reckless in appearance (but yet maintaining my ever obvious sense of vanity).
I'm having trouble with spending time alone. I find myself filling every minute of my time with random people and activities. I began this morning making a phone call apologizing to someone that I (unintentionally) hurt her feelings. I have no idea where my manners went but I did something without thinking and it resulted in her getting hurt. After a long apology and explanation, we are going to the movies tomorrow.
Yesterday I drank too much. She brought a bottle of malibu rum and we made tequila sunrises until wee hours of the night. We fell asleep on the couch watching the movie channels. We recorded ourselves singing songs like "Sway" by Bic Runga (whom I'm totally in love with) and "Que Bello" by Kaira. Maybe one day I will post a link to our own version of Karaoke night.
I can't hide that I rely on you, like yellow does on blue. I want/need/love/ you, endlessly.
I mourn slightly because she's in Mexico. I love her shoulders because they are swimmer's shoulders.
There's a dream I've had for so long materializing in front of me now.
I've been feeling like a fish out of water, out of water in that I've been taking time out to sit on the showerstall floor, under the water, atleast three times a week. No soap or anything, just sitting and thumbing my fingers together and humming, because it's so enjoyable to splash. It makes me want a lomo fisheye camera, and a pool with 70's decorative tile border and strange, overly-green water.
What I like to imagine, I like to imagine, I like to imagine what my life would be like if I were a beautiful, fun girl, and I met Angelina Jolie at a movie premier, somehow, and she fell so in love with me. But then, Vin Diesel would fall in love with me, too, and they would argue and bicker about me, while I play it neutral and remain friends with them both. Of course, I'd have a british accent, just so I could be alone with Vin Diesel, and tell him what a terrible girl (in that wonderful accent) I am for having feelings for him, and he would take me into his massive, strong arms and tell me it's okay, because he feels the same.
Yes, those are the things I think about when I sit in the water.
