2005-08-17
won't
in summer, the song sings itself.
-William Carlos Williams
as we stand and converse- or as they stand and converse, i gaze off to the keyboarder. that term unfortunately makes him sound like the type of person who does what i am doing right now. at least you and i know better. he is charasmatically playing and his face never ceases to be engaged in this current task, which is of course the wrong word for it.
the words between acquaintences continue to exchange. it is give and take, a little both ways as though to balance out and respectfully share the words. it is by no means something i hold myself above, and happens to be something i rather enjoy in particular instances. heads nod and familiar voices have a slightly shifted tone as they understandably adapt to the context and situation.
the keyboardist is still playing away. but he's not going anywhere.
it's not about his eyes for me. if it was, i might sense him differently as people do in that unspoken cliched poetic way. he has judged me just as quickly as i him. but i never thought of it that way, it was just more of a looming negative opinion of him. our paths cross rarely enough that i hope it all doesn't matter.
i look behind us as the kids (somehow this would all seem profound and scholarly if i had used the world �children� instead, hah), playing on the fishie statue. the same one that hobos sit around and seem to gaze off into at this very place and different times than now.
they hop from the rocks, one foot to the next in a dance so undancelike.
there is so much i know and feel now that they do not know. there is so much they know and feel now that i have forgotten since then.
and for a brief moment, i wanted to be them. everything suddenly felt overbearing in an undramatic yet tumultuous sort of way. just a kid bouncing to the next rock in this procession. not an old adolescent trying to converse and speak to people toward whom i have reservations or simply no desire or no will to do so.
yes, no will. i could replace the name �will� and make this all obvious and quantified, so you know i won't. will; won't. funny how we build things and ideas up in our minds when the subjects are at a physical distance. being away makes the concept filled with a romantic sense of grandeur. at least it does for me. i get this image in my mind of how someone is, and it is usually pretty complimenting. then i speculate, consider, and it inhibits me from being natural and not based on some vague expectations and premeditated whimsy thoughts once that physical distance shortens. and then i feel further conscientious when i am completely aware that i have mentioned stray thoughts of this to others, particularly the people standing with us (what �us�?! it's not even fair to use that term- two people standing in the same stupid social conversational circle does NOT make an �us�!!) who are also aware of my whims. nice going.
maybe i can make him, the un-will-ing guy, into a good old boy (space) friend. like i don't have enough of those. (actually, no, i don't. and it feels very wrong to word it all as such, since gender plays no role in our friendships, and these said relations are amongst those i value most.) don't you worry, the vague concept that could potentially make me better (couldn't we see all things as such an opportunity?) is more about that idea then the identity itself. really. so many thoughts, he occupies far too few of them to really be considered like that.
i am far too dull, unfit, and pretentious for him.
i hope i'm not too pretentious for many more people. i hate that adjective and to think it could apply to me. maybe it comes with the territory of good grades, although that seems very unfair. yes, i am sure there is more to it than that. i guess it's ok.
when it comes to picking out a movie at the video rental store, i like to be efficient yet make a considerate selection based upon extensive scanning of the new releases and a cursory browsing of the old movies. and that's it, then pick one. we all tick in different ways. ..but as long as our clocks say the same thing then i guess it's okay...?
i lost my effing keys. i am perturbed. losing stuff is more irritating than anything else. it is in the last place you left it. it is marked by an unconscious action of your own wherein you failed to notice. they could be anywhere in this area. i hate jiggling my hand around my empty pockets for a third time looking there. i hate looking under a table when i think, this could be a complete waste of time, looking under here, yet i have to do it anyway. maybe it is somehow like a irplane security. i have to take off my shoes, otherwise they won't catch a true and bonafide terrorist. okay. just go with it. i need this stuff. i don't know what i need more, the function of the keys, or their solid presence in my living space to prohibit my mother from justifiably yelling and lecturing at me the way she so commonly does these days.
oh. and then act so relaxed and �fine� about it in the presence of other company. �oh, any tube, it's ok, it doesn't really matter.� really? is that why you just chewed me out about it at home? come on now. it's like the fake voice that mothers take on when they talk on the telephone. spare me.
benjamin is swell. i'm glad we ate so much. i know we need to talk more, that there are things about him in ways that he's changed that i don't completely grasp, somewhat because i have been wrapped up in myself lately. i could tell he was the same as he yelped when the bee approached his face, taking a big scruptuous bite out of our really unhealthy food, telling me how he knows and calcuated his parents' fortune, when he giggled about driving badly, when he sang along to the music as i remembered him to. little hints to remind me this is the same person i really cared about, my good friend, albeit an entire year and foreign country later. he's not that far away anymore. we could recount more memories easily, remind me of the polson i used to live in which i have since left in the dust. one of our teachers once told us that we bring out the worse in each other. i love my worst.
i have to go look for them, you know i do and i know i do. i must find these keys. i am tired. i am trying to remember what i dreamed last night. i am feeling unfufilled with myself for not sparking the interest of the one i used to refer in my girllishness naivity (which really hasn't left in any sense, oh no!) to as a cutiepie. i feel fine with being impatient, someone needs to balance out her wisdomesque ways and it might as well be me since i was just being myself.
bubbly eyes. that's cool. all those chairs, lots of chairs. people modestly holding hands as they sat. the bulbous lights turning on as dusk settled in, a moon hovering lowly. feet doing a jitter. i felt privileged to be in the middle, i really liked it. i sputter and get flustered, at least in my head and sometimes it is conveyed outward, to try to give these people fun like they naturally bestow onto me. moody. negative connotation. �one of different and varying moods.� moody. moody is bad. i think i was just tired and unaware of it. it really should not have taken that much effort to talk to �will,� or as i better know him- �won't.�
the girls with the singing shoe reminded me of sam. i wonder how she is. so different from her brother, yet for sure there are traces. is she happy when she wakes up? why does she want so much stuff? who is her favorite sisterhood pants character, and why do i ask when i don't have one myself? has she shamelessly uttered �i love you� to someone? what is it about her mom that makes things so difficult? i do care about sam in a very detatched way, but i think of her sometimes.
i liked �the terminal.� i liked the characters in it, especially. it is a good movie. i really hope i find my keys soon. i guess sitting on the computer being a less-interesting type (mwaha type) of a keyboarder really won't do me much good with that matter. goodbye for now.
leesah-likes at 10:19 a.m.