Mass romantic fool wears Foster Grants, his books on tape ring true, like everyone wants to say "I love you" to someone on the radio.The first voice in the hollowed stars, now the one true loves, and author of "My Life Among the Kids Who Go to Shows." This is not the way. In the streetlight dawn, this street turns on. Mass romantic fool, separated by sheets when the curtain calls you, speaking on the themes of stolen virtue missing from the radio. Now this romantic duel is into the streets, bon appetit, you've eaten me alive you realize. This is not the way. In the streetlight dawn, this beat turns on. This boy's life among the electrical lights.
-TNP
12/07/2004
12/06/2004
Willard library
...Is located in a pasture a few miles beyond Lake Griffy. After an inspiring rehearsal yesterday, I called two close friends and invited myself over. We stood at the base of what will soon be a pole barn--huge. She and he discussed dimensions, straw and timeline while I sat in the warm December sun.
We decided to hike back through their property, quiet with only the crunching of leaves under our feet, occasionally commenting on a passing bird, identifying a tree or the enormous horse piles scattered like landmines. My mind was free.
After several miles, we arrived at a small log cabin. And further still there was a quaint green cabin with a bright blue door and a gold door knob. This was Willard Library. The shelves were stacked with mostly children's books, many of which are Newbery Medal winners. Some were ages old. The room reminded me of my grandmother's attic--a treasure full of old toys and books. We stayed and read a few books aloud and watched the sun set through the pained window. I checked out a few books for my daughter--in good faith that I will return them.
Ari explained the history of the library and the generosity of the old man who built it. The library was a cross between something out of Rand's Anthem and The Darling Family Bedroom--Peter Pan. We tracked back, passing the horses that helped to carry the materials out to this desolate space--their hooves as big around as my thighs.
Upon our return, we drank hard cider. Ari played his mandolin, I played guitar.
I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my Sunday.
Ask me about the 4 D's: Dancing, Dating, Dramatics, Debating... Lolita
We decided to hike back through their property, quiet with only the crunching of leaves under our feet, occasionally commenting on a passing bird, identifying a tree or the enormous horse piles scattered like landmines. My mind was free.
After several miles, we arrived at a small log cabin. And further still there was a quaint green cabin with a bright blue door and a gold door knob. This was Willard Library. The shelves were stacked with mostly children's books, many of which are Newbery Medal winners. Some were ages old. The room reminded me of my grandmother's attic--a treasure full of old toys and books. We stayed and read a few books aloud and watched the sun set through the pained window. I checked out a few books for my daughter--in good faith that I will return them.
Ari explained the history of the library and the generosity of the old man who built it. The library was a cross between something out of Rand's Anthem and The Darling Family Bedroom--Peter Pan. We tracked back, passing the horses that helped to carry the materials out to this desolate space--their hooves as big around as my thighs.
Upon our return, we drank hard cider. Ari played his mandolin, I played guitar.
I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my Sunday.
Ask me about the 4 D's: Dancing, Dating, Dramatics, Debating... Lolita
12/05/2004
I remain....
There is nothing more revolting than the sound of two cars colliding--especially when one is yours, and it is brand new. The horrible sound of metal and fiberglass on metal is just horrifying. Fortunately, neither party was hurt in the incident.
When it rains, it pours. God, I hate that saying no matter how true.
Not to my surprise, I saw no one from school at the shows this weekend. My next two shows are going to be brilliant--I can feel it--the creativity has surged these past few months. You have to put it somewhere, I guess.
I am reading this book recommended by my therapist about controlling energy, using intuitive thoughts and channeling creativity. I have never quite had someone explain how artists work so well before. The preshow meditation was helpful yesterday.
I have been trying to figure out a way to put this into words--and I will most likely fail as I am just letting it flow now.
It strikes me as funny, how being the one to leave a bad situation I am also the one who sacrifices everything. With every visit, I see my daughter changing, and it pains me to leave her. I miss my cats terribly. The drive to and from town is now a torturous ride--I cry uncontrollably--both ways. While talking to acquaintances who ask how the family is, I never know how to respond. And even more painful when they ask how my daughter is. While waiting to be seated at any restaurant the question, "are you waiting for someone?" or "just one today?" "will someone be joining you?" is crushing. I usually counter with, " joining me? Not that I'm aware..." Or "just one..today and every day.." Sarcasm. Fuck Yeah.
The guy who lives next door to me was leaving as I came home and so I introduced myself, seeing we were neighbors and all. While passing in the narrow hallway, he said something incoherent and walked on.
Unfortunately, having extended conversations with people is becoming painfully difficult now. And when I call someone, after a few seconds I want to hang up. When I am out, I like to listen to other people sitting around me just to feel part of it.
Can someone please tell me this is only temporary? Can someone please say it gets better? Who will stand with me? Who will stand by me? Before it consumes me completely--before I can no longer get out of bed. I can't bear this loneliness and isolation much longer.
"half of the time we're gone but we don't know where and we don't know where..."
here I am. --S. and G.
Your good vibes would be appreciated.
When it rains, it pours. God, I hate that saying no matter how true.
Not to my surprise, I saw no one from school at the shows this weekend. My next two shows are going to be brilliant--I can feel it--the creativity has surged these past few months. You have to put it somewhere, I guess.
I am reading this book recommended by my therapist about controlling energy, using intuitive thoughts and channeling creativity. I have never quite had someone explain how artists work so well before. The preshow meditation was helpful yesterday.
I have been trying to figure out a way to put this into words--and I will most likely fail as I am just letting it flow now.
It strikes me as funny, how being the one to leave a bad situation I am also the one who sacrifices everything. With every visit, I see my daughter changing, and it pains me to leave her. I miss my cats terribly. The drive to and from town is now a torturous ride--I cry uncontrollably--both ways. While talking to acquaintances who ask how the family is, I never know how to respond. And even more painful when they ask how my daughter is. While waiting to be seated at any restaurant the question, "are you waiting for someone?" or "just one today?" "will someone be joining you?" is crushing. I usually counter with, " joining me? Not that I'm aware..." Or "just one..today and every day.." Sarcasm. Fuck Yeah.
The guy who lives next door to me was leaving as I came home and so I introduced myself, seeing we were neighbors and all. While passing in the narrow hallway, he said something incoherent and walked on.
Unfortunately, having extended conversations with people is becoming painfully difficult now. And when I call someone, after a few seconds I want to hang up. When I am out, I like to listen to other people sitting around me just to feel part of it.
Can someone please tell me this is only temporary? Can someone please say it gets better? Who will stand with me? Who will stand by me? Before it consumes me completely--before I can no longer get out of bed. I can't bear this loneliness and isolation much longer.
"half of the time we're gone but we don't know where and we don't know where..."
here I am. --S. and G.
Your good vibes would be appreciated.
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