9:00 a.m. - 2008-01-27
I absolutely love it.
The Borodinova person made me think of you. Same birth year. It amazes me these people were born the same years as us. It makes me feel like I should be doing something really amazing and I'm falling short. But I'm making plans. And I think someday we should go to Moscow and spend our time looking for your ancestors that of course we'll make up and we'll try convincing everyone that you were from there. We'll talk in funny accents and ask if so and so knows your great uncle so and so. It will be fun. Would you like to do that?
Also the snowflakes outside are huge. They get caught on my newly mascaraed lashes and the black ink runs. I always look doey eyed and about to cry. I would very much like to consider this a real problem.
On another note, I also really really really liked Indiana Caba. I liked all of those ones, but for some reason I kept going back to the second one and just ...looking. It sounds simple. It is simple. Just looking.
I locked myself out today and had to pay two dollars to get back in. My comforter was covered in the smokey scents of those who borrowed it. I couldn't live how they do. I could not throw up all day, go eat cheesecake, and then do it all over again, passing out on some girl's floor, using her roommate's blankets. It just...looks lonely, but worse because it's in disguise. At least when others are lonely, we put our ipods on and our hoods up and walk towards the wind and stare at dark, starless skies, simply hoping to see a hint of something. Besides even when people are stupid and make no sense whatsoever together, well, at least it's real.
My arms smell like vanilla because this air is leaving my bruised and bleeding, but it doesn't feel inviting. It smells like the kind of vanilla they would put in hemlock to make it less obvious. This makes no sense to me at all because I cannot remember a time when I was subtle.
Do you remember when lying used to make me feel alive? I could make up stories of where I was, who I was with, how I knew them, and the good-deeds that their parents were involved in. Do you remember that? I haven't lied in a long time, but somehow I'm still alive. Stupid. Simple. Silly. It's like when people say, well, there are a million ways to describe a tree, but a tree is still a tree. I hate that. Obviously a tree is a tree. But what kind of tree? How old is it? Where is it planted? Who planted it? What are its roots? Who cares for it? What color do its leaves turn when fall comes? What does it look like in the winter? The people who say a tree is a tree shake my small amount of patience to its core.
I'm happy because it is snowing today and because i am wearing a shirt which has sleeves that fan out so when I was brushing my teeth this morning, I saw my sleeve out of the corner of my eye and jumped because i thought it was someone else. I am happy because no one else was around, so i just stood there laughing at myself- toothpaste in mouth and laughing. It's that simple to be happy.
I miss driving to the beach when it snows and walking and talking about all the things we may or may not do. Fives things haven't happened yet today. But they will.
