2004-11-03
citnalta
Transatlanticism
the atlantic was born today and i'll tell you how:
the clouds above opened up and let it out.
i was standing on the surface of a perforated sphere
when the water filled every hole.
and thousands upon thousands made an ocean,
making islands where no island should go.
oh no.
those people were overjoyed; they took to their boats.
i thought it less like a lake and more like a moat.
the rhythm of my footsteps crossing flood lands to your door have been silenced forever more.
the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row
it seems farther than ever before
oh no.
i need you so much closer
so come on, come on
I've had that song stuck in my head all night, particularly the penultimate line. It really doesn't get old. "Monotonous" maybe, but not old.
To completely know a person would be like knowing all of the stars in the sky. Would it really be satisfactory? Necessary? Truly desired? I prefer to get swept away in some constellations.
My hand burns badly. It stings since the skin around the burn stretches and expands. It hurts more now than it ever did before. It is a poor reminder that my body is real.
Snow speckles in the hair lighter than the strands themselves. Silently marvel at the presence of the white flecks softly upon the lashes. Winter is almost here.
November is one of them transition months. For the weather, at least. It's not a transition of life, nope. We're pretty much set where we are, at least for a while. This is what it is. I think if you took a calculation of all the months in the year and some factor of your being derived from each one, November would be the average. I wonder.
Willamette sounds like a really good place. Lauren's sister goes there and she went to visit her. She said everyone on her dorm floor smokes pot and the school won't turn them in because then it would go on the institution's record. But still, it looks like a very good school and somewhere I could definitely see myself thus far. I could get in. I could get scholarships. I could live there, in Oregon, for four years. I don't know. It's all so uncertain. It's hard to talk like this, but it is the jumping ahead process of the mind. I don't care much for Thomas. I'd rather Steinbeck.
MY HAND HURTS
All I need is just some good advice
Today was short. I remember waking up this morning. That was hard. Tomorrow morning will be hard, too. I wonder if I smell bad. It's probably really hard to determine by oneself. I don't know. The sky was so vivid, it's brilliant. I will look for the moon.
leesah-likes at 8:36 p.m.