Je suis etée abattue si longtemps... depuis le jour du notre rencontre

En écoutant: Primitive Radio Gods - "Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand"


J'ai peur de bouger.

N'importe quel geste, on me peut tuer. Ça était le cas hier, de tout façon.
C'est toujours comme ça; non le mort, non la vie, non la rue, non le lit, non le travail, non ce qui cesse d'être.

Mais d'être vraiment, c'est ce que j'entends.
Mon français empire chaque jour. C'est comme un mort extérieur, comme . . .




c'est comme cette chaussure. Oui, tu lis correctement. La chaussure. Ma chaussure, aussi. Et je ne veux pas, ne peux pas expliquer.
Ma cervelle n'est jamais compétent en cettes affaires. Tous croient que oui, que la fonction est toujours la même, l'efficace, ce que devrait délivrer, mais oui-- le sauvatage!


J'ai peur de bouger, pourquoi je ne sais pas ce qui se passe, et ce qu'il fera.
Peut-être, je le connais trop bien-- je sais qu'il n'est rien. Personne n'a fait rien, je le sais, et je ne bouge pas. Au moins, pas maintenant.

here

Currently listening to: Dave Matthews Band - "Satellite"


A fair allotment it gave me chaque jour.
Cada día, 2 hours, multiple times.
After two hours, there was still that spare span of the 10 to 15 minutes before insufferableness-- that point at which the entire undertaking had scoowampled to be totally futile, if not thoroughly and hopelessly enervating.



Here, I only have 10 minutes.
It does not wait. I am given nine-plus-one, quoth him nevermore.


My college coffee maker temporarily named Mary Sutherland may have been by far a cheaper purchase than this present unnamed unwonder, but it has always waited for me: at all times, day or night, granting sufficient flexibility as to when the perpetually warm-maintained coffee would make it into my system.

Our comradeship must have come from the necessary and not so all nighters, I reckon.

it only tastes like dirt if you drink it slowly-- if it is warm by the time you get to the bottom

Currently listening to: Massive Attack - "Mezzanine"


the lights tick rhythmically with this. they signal the approach of what is to come-- the cool air dances along to this modern serenade.

Mozart wrote one for winds, but his was different. This is something else, something new. It's its oh-so-commonly original.
IN all!

In all honesty, I know exactly what it says because I speak its language. Nothing to do with my intelligence or lack thereof-- does it ever, really?-- it's more like, we're on the same windy wavelength on electric paper.

It says, it says that it tells me that it shall be great-lee ben-official that we not exist again
. . . for a long time.







After the Chemistry final, I will shave my legs.

the scent of summer flora is the same everywhere

Currently listening to : Alanis Morissette - "Hands Clean (acoustic)"

the city and I

it's just us
on this sun-soaked day saturated
with unrelenting motion


a book scene


the city and I
look into each other's eyes
and instead of the usual fear of
gaze


we fall in love,
all over again,
the city and I.