damn writer's block.
i don't think it's really writer's block as much as it is the case that i use the backspace far too often in my writing. that, or i feel like i have nothing to write about. some days i feel like crying. right now i do, and i don't know why. have i hit menopause prematurely? is it because my allergies are taking over my body and forcing it to revolt? is it because i ate 5 cookies today and indian food and am utterly disgusted right now? blah blah blah goes the little voice that sits above my right ear and whispers hissing noises that trail into the darkest corners of my mind and resonate within the cavities of my chest. i woke up with the worst case of halitosis sluggishly seeping out of my mouth, turning my tongue greyish yellow because of all the rotting inside. and yes,, i ate cookies for breakfast lunch and dinner. but maybe the stench, this languid seeping sewage inside my mouth goes deeper than just the last bits of cookie lingering in my teeth. maybe it's because i still listen to the lies of satan. maybe it's because i envy people on the subway who hold hands or sneak kisses to one another. maybe it's the green jealousy that seeps up from the tar pits in my organs and spews out into my mouth. maybe this stench is from the fact that i worry too much about never getting married, or never being loved, or being fat, or never feeling at right with my body or never measuring up to who i want to be or dfjkljlkj;, just all of these things that are churning and gurgling inside of me that i suppress with ever smile and absent conversation when really all i want to say is---WHAT AM I DOING? ugh, man, Lord. it's at these times when we don't brush our teeth that we realize all of the refuse that sin has built up in our flesh. i don't know why i say 'our' maybe it makes me fee better. self conscious again. listening to the lies again. how desperately i need God, it's indescribable, really, the stench that emanates from my body. i want to scrub it off, scale it off, shed the pounds of grease and filth. not now not now. my muscles are tensing up inside of me as i cling to my burden--why do i do this? it's my ball and chain and i've grown accustomed to the weight, the sick little indulgence of pain, of chastising myself for this that, for looking one way, talking like so, eating this and that, living inside this white picket fence of society---and i'm fucking sick of it. i imagine all of this, it's the ball and chain that i have the key to, slipped stealthily inside my mouth, behind my tongue with it's coppery taste settling inside my mouth. i'm free. i'm free. i'm free. praise God. and yet i don't dance, i don't jump, i cry, and smile out of the corners of my mouth, raw from washing, and i rest.
and tomorrow i will wake up. and still be alive. alive and not existing. but beyond existing, walking without ball and chain, breathing free from pestilence and shame. walking, lightly, powerfully. loved and free.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
i hate the word succulent
it sounds like wet play dough.
and wet play dough is not succulent, trust me, i've tried it.
i'm a list maker. my life operates around lists. my goal in life is to kill the list--make one and take it out, putting the most mundane, detailed tasks on it and jotting down things i've already done just to have the pleasure of crossing them off. and sometimes i hate lists. lists of things i'm afraid of. lists of things that i think are true about me. lists of people i've loved or had crushes on. lists of the opportunities i've missed. lists of the things that i would say to a person that i met eyes with if i'd only had the courage to say hello. lists of the things that i would change out myself. lists about my future. lists of dreams of hopes, of realities. these are the lists that i don't necessarily look forward to crossing off because i'm too afraid to make them. so we'll start out by checking a box off of the 'things i'm afraid of' list and make a list, a public list about all the things that i dream about and in my own little world, in my little nook, these are the things that i day dream about, however mundane, and stupid and inconsequential--these are the things of my dreams.
1. to go to montana
2. to own a little coffee shop in new york with a porch adn chipped paint and a red door. to make my grandad's homeade potato bread and invent drinks with espresso and foam milk all day long.
3. to meet my husband in my coffee shop.
4. to actually watch star wars adn not hate it.
5. to be a part of a theater company who are my family
6. to perform things that matter, and push the envelope, not because it's inappropriate, but because plays are the messy, incongruous thoughts that go on inside everyone's head that they're too afraid to speak
7. to learn how to do latte art
8. for someone to figure out how many freckles i have and what constellations are in them
9. to learn how to rock climb--really
10. to have a husband who is the perfect combination of a lumberjack, peter pan and the cs lewis all wrapped up into one. who smells like bonfires and wears plaid and has a scruffy beard and is burly but not a douchebag.
11. to eat grilled cheese and tomato soup every sunday night for the rest of my life.
12. to learn how to speak fluent french and go to france and have un cafe and all the nasty kinds of cheeses at a hole in the wall restaurant.
13. to be a wine connoisseur
14. to have a shiba inu named petey that looks like a fox and a calico cat that kneads my stomach before going to bed right beside me
15. to have a house that smells like cinnamon and bonfires instead of baby throw up and cat pee
16. to never have more than i need and learn how to throw away crap
17. to parasail and scuba dive on a reef and get the crap scared out of me by eels and sharks
18. to have kids who shoot bows and arrows and take them on fishing trips like my dad took me and my sister
19. to start eating pb&j sandwiches in cookie-cutter shapes during holidays, just for fun and save the crust
20. to meet someone who my kids can someday call aunt... without her actually being their aunt
21. to have tropical fish and name them
22. to write a book, not just to write one, but because i believe in what i'm saying and because it needs to be said--i still haven't figured out what that is
23. to learn how to cook frou frou things like salmon and cobbler and to actually be able to make my own recipes
24. to have a husband who likes to go on adventures and knows i'll kick his ass if he'd rather stay home and melt his butt into the couch
25. to NEVER have a house where i have to mulch, but plant wildflowers everywhere
26. to learn how to crack an egg with just one hand
27. to tell those that i really do love that i love and appreciate them and not take them for granted
28. to never straighten my hair again (this is a hopeful)
29. to roll down more hills and get bruises and scratches
30. to laugh more often and surround myself with those people who don't just make me laugh, but make me fall to the ground holding my sides, gasping for air and wetting my pants. those moments really are to die for
31. to know with confidence that i am here for a reason. to know God in all his delight and to know joy. constant, hot, radiating joy.--this was added because although a 'dream', im praying to God it's my reality.
*thanks margaret becker (author extraordinaire) for inspiring this list
and wet play dough is not succulent, trust me, i've tried it.
i'm a list maker. my life operates around lists. my goal in life is to kill the list--make one and take it out, putting the most mundane, detailed tasks on it and jotting down things i've already done just to have the pleasure of crossing them off. and sometimes i hate lists. lists of things i'm afraid of. lists of things that i think are true about me. lists of people i've loved or had crushes on. lists of the opportunities i've missed. lists of the things that i would say to a person that i met eyes with if i'd only had the courage to say hello. lists of the things that i would change out myself. lists about my future. lists of dreams of hopes, of realities. these are the lists that i don't necessarily look forward to crossing off because i'm too afraid to make them. so we'll start out by checking a box off of the 'things i'm afraid of' list and make a list, a public list about all the things that i dream about and in my own little world, in my little nook, these are the things that i day dream about, however mundane, and stupid and inconsequential--these are the things of my dreams.
1. to go to montana
2. to own a little coffee shop in new york with a porch adn chipped paint and a red door. to make my grandad's homeade potato bread and invent drinks with espresso and foam milk all day long.
3. to meet my husband in my coffee shop.
4. to actually watch star wars adn not hate it.
5. to be a part of a theater company who are my family
6. to perform things that matter, and push the envelope, not because it's inappropriate, but because plays are the messy, incongruous thoughts that go on inside everyone's head that they're too afraid to speak
7. to learn how to do latte art
8. for someone to figure out how many freckles i have and what constellations are in them
9. to learn how to rock climb--really
10. to have a husband who is the perfect combination of a lumberjack, peter pan and the cs lewis all wrapped up into one. who smells like bonfires and wears plaid and has a scruffy beard and is burly but not a douchebag.
11. to eat grilled cheese and tomato soup every sunday night for the rest of my life.
12. to learn how to speak fluent french and go to france and have un cafe and all the nasty kinds of cheeses at a hole in the wall restaurant.
13. to be a wine connoisseur
14. to have a shiba inu named petey that looks like a fox and a calico cat that kneads my stomach before going to bed right beside me
15. to have a house that smells like cinnamon and bonfires instead of baby throw up and cat pee
16. to never have more than i need and learn how to throw away crap
17. to parasail and scuba dive on a reef and get the crap scared out of me by eels and sharks
18. to have kids who shoot bows and arrows and take them on fishing trips like my dad took me and my sister
19. to start eating pb&j sandwiches in cookie-cutter shapes during holidays, just for fun and save the crust
20. to meet someone who my kids can someday call aunt... without her actually being their aunt
21. to have tropical fish and name them
22. to write a book, not just to write one, but because i believe in what i'm saying and because it needs to be said--i still haven't figured out what that is
23. to learn how to cook frou frou things like salmon and cobbler and to actually be able to make my own recipes
24. to have a husband who likes to go on adventures and knows i'll kick his ass if he'd rather stay home and melt his butt into the couch
25. to NEVER have a house where i have to mulch, but plant wildflowers everywhere
26. to learn how to crack an egg with just one hand
27. to tell those that i really do love that i love and appreciate them and not take them for granted
28. to never straighten my hair again (this is a hopeful)
29. to roll down more hills and get bruises and scratches
30. to laugh more often and surround myself with those people who don't just make me laugh, but make me fall to the ground holding my sides, gasping for air and wetting my pants. those moments really are to die for
31. to know with confidence that i am here for a reason. to know God in all his delight and to know joy. constant, hot, radiating joy.--this was added because although a 'dream', im praying to God it's my reality.
*thanks margaret becker (author extraordinaire) for inspiring this list
Saturday, September 13, 2008
my shoulder hurts something fierce
i haven't written in a while. it's not that i'm not inspired to write--i write in my head all the time when i'm in the subway or walking down the street or cooking pasta in my little abode, it's just when it comes to writing things down, i get all critical like nothing is good enough...for a blog. i'm stupid, it's ok.
today i made an omelet and almost became a strict vegetarian because i saw something i've never seen before in y cracked egg: twins. yes twins. i was trying to be quiet an d not wake christy with my cooking frenzy and i cracked open one of the little brown eggs into my skillet only to see two yokes attached together instead of just one. and for some reason attaching the word "twins" to it made me not want to eat it. i felt like i was commiting some sort of crime by eating twin yokes, so i just cracked another egg on top, grabbed a fork and smushed those suckers around the already sizzling skillet.
heartless, i know.
i had a series of revelations today. it was one of those things where you start laughing outloud by yourself because you realize how rediculous somethings in the world are and you have no idea why they are the way they are and people around you think you're crazy.
cast of revelations (in order of appearance)
1. men and women stil subconsciously segregate themselves on the subway because to some women, men are sketchy. thus making me laugh with strangers when an old woman won't sit down to a young man but makes christy scoot over to make a new tight spot for her. young man and i laugh at her. conclusion: laughing with strangers is fun, and also at them, but in a nice, unassuming way.
2. my friend justin clark is right when he says that crunchy leaves are the best noises ever. i constantly go out of my way to crush an extra-crunchy one. it's ever so satisfying.
3. ok dentyne ice ads. picture this--girl and guy making out in the grass, the slogan is to share the wealth or the experience or something super cliche like that, however in said picture of make out, the dude's arm is underneath the girls shoulder and i'm thinking. there has to be some more cmfortable way to make out. i mean, his arm is going to either get crushed, or it's going to fall asleep and he's going to be shaking it out or trying to get it to wake up and still be making out, because the guy won't want to sacrifice prime lip-locking time to get his crushed arm to wake up. conclusion: i really don't want dentyne ice anyways because the girl that was making out with the dentyne ice dude didn't look all that intrigued/blown away by the minty ice flavor--hence the reason her face looks like those old church women who pucker up and blow you kisses when you're 3 and they have old women powder-smell breath. gross.
4. why do you say bless you when someone sneezes? also, many people don't say bless you, they say bleshhew. i laughed at a man after i said bless you to him today and i was like, what if i just went up to him, if he didn't sneeze and said 'bless you' he would think i was crazy or weird or some modern day mother teresa right? conclusion: sneezes must have a holy/saintly magic in them that makes you want to bless people.
5. listening to old people at starbucks talk about the internet and insoles is the most hilarious conversation i've ever heard. conclusion: i need to be fabulous and hate technology in 40 years and buy insoles and forget where i put them.
in the next week or so, i'll write some more, some creative, some drivel, something just to write.
it's raining tonight, and it's lulling me to sleep, so i'll go now.
today i made an omelet and almost became a strict vegetarian because i saw something i've never seen before in y cracked egg: twins. yes twins. i was trying to be quiet an d not wake christy with my cooking frenzy and i cracked open one of the little brown eggs into my skillet only to see two yokes attached together instead of just one. and for some reason attaching the word "twins" to it made me not want to eat it. i felt like i was commiting some sort of crime by eating twin yokes, so i just cracked another egg on top, grabbed a fork and smushed those suckers around the already sizzling skillet.
heartless, i know.
i had a series of revelations today. it was one of those things where you start laughing outloud by yourself because you realize how rediculous somethings in the world are and you have no idea why they are the way they are and people around you think you're crazy.
cast of revelations (in order of appearance)
1. men and women stil subconsciously segregate themselves on the subway because to some women, men are sketchy. thus making me laugh with strangers when an old woman won't sit down to a young man but makes christy scoot over to make a new tight spot for her. young man and i laugh at her. conclusion: laughing with strangers is fun, and also at them, but in a nice, unassuming way.
2. my friend justin clark is right when he says that crunchy leaves are the best noises ever. i constantly go out of my way to crush an extra-crunchy one. it's ever so satisfying.
3. ok dentyne ice ads. picture this--girl and guy making out in the grass, the slogan is to share the wealth or the experience or something super cliche like that, however in said picture of make out, the dude's arm is underneath the girls shoulder and i'm thinking. there has to be some more cmfortable way to make out. i mean, his arm is going to either get crushed, or it's going to fall asleep and he's going to be shaking it out or trying to get it to wake up and still be making out, because the guy won't want to sacrifice prime lip-locking time to get his crushed arm to wake up. conclusion: i really don't want dentyne ice anyways because the girl that was making out with the dentyne ice dude didn't look all that intrigued/blown away by the minty ice flavor--hence the reason her face looks like those old church women who pucker up and blow you kisses when you're 3 and they have old women powder-smell breath. gross.
4. why do you say bless you when someone sneezes? also, many people don't say bless you, they say bleshhew. i laughed at a man after i said bless you to him today and i was like, what if i just went up to him, if he didn't sneeze and said 'bless you' he would think i was crazy or weird or some modern day mother teresa right? conclusion: sneezes must have a holy/saintly magic in them that makes you want to bless people.
5. listening to old people at starbucks talk about the internet and insoles is the most hilarious conversation i've ever heard. conclusion: i need to be fabulous and hate technology in 40 years and buy insoles and forget where i put them.
in the next week or so, i'll write some more, some creative, some drivel, something just to write.
it's raining tonight, and it's lulling me to sleep, so i'll go now.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
today's goal: to be
i just dropped my glasses in the toilet.
happiness is a choice isn't it? that's what i keep telling myself even though in my head i'm cursing up a storm. over glasses. really, jessika? really now.
lately i've been thinking about optimism and pessimism. i mean, i can never really remember a time when i wasn't the glass half empty kid. and i don't know why. what happened during my kid years that turned me into this doubtful, worrisome, cynical person? it's a choice. i think. i pray it's a choice. my friend chase says that i'm a 'realist' which is really a nice way of saying pessimist, it makes us (at least me) feel better. and the thing is, while i'm not a disney princess who enjoys sprinkles and rainbows, i can be happy. but even more than that, even more than the fake happy that is crest smiles and puppies and bows and jauncy walking--i can be joyful. joy. it's otherworldly and that makes it so much more desirable. and i know that happiness--theres a choice, but joy--thats tangible. i may not have the senses to feel it now, but it exists in that sixth mysterious sense--that's where you can experience it fully-touch,taste,feel,hear, smell--it's all those plus something i can't describe.
i crave that.
today i went outside without make-up on. and to many people, no big deal. they do that every day. not me. i'm not a high-maintenance gal, but i have this image of myself without makeup that is etched in my mind. a face without makeup is for me, my family and my pillow only. but today, christy said let's go, and i went. slipped on some rainboots, and left the house. i mean, i didn't have my contacts in either so if anyone gave me 'what the heck is that girl doing emerging from the house without makeup look' then i paid no mind to them, because unless they stared into my eyes 2 feet away from my face, they were justu another color-running blob in my field of vision. nice cop-out huh?
i have so much more to write that i've been thinking about, but it's late and i should be in bed 2 hours ago. i'm scared, i'm confused a lot, but somewhere deep down, buried there's a hope and a knowledge that everything's going to be ok, going to be beautiful.
happiness is a choice isn't it? that's what i keep telling myself even though in my head i'm cursing up a storm. over glasses. really, jessika? really now.
lately i've been thinking about optimism and pessimism. i mean, i can never really remember a time when i wasn't the glass half empty kid. and i don't know why. what happened during my kid years that turned me into this doubtful, worrisome, cynical person? it's a choice. i think. i pray it's a choice. my friend chase says that i'm a 'realist' which is really a nice way of saying pessimist, it makes us (at least me) feel better. and the thing is, while i'm not a disney princess who enjoys sprinkles and rainbows, i can be happy. but even more than that, even more than the fake happy that is crest smiles and puppies and bows and jauncy walking--i can be joyful. joy. it's otherworldly and that makes it so much more desirable. and i know that happiness--theres a choice, but joy--thats tangible. i may not have the senses to feel it now, but it exists in that sixth mysterious sense--that's where you can experience it fully-touch,taste,feel,hear, smell--it's all those plus something i can't describe.
i crave that.
today i went outside without make-up on. and to many people, no big deal. they do that every day. not me. i'm not a high-maintenance gal, but i have this image of myself without makeup that is etched in my mind. a face without makeup is for me, my family and my pillow only. but today, christy said let's go, and i went. slipped on some rainboots, and left the house. i mean, i didn't have my contacts in either so if anyone gave me 'what the heck is that girl doing emerging from the house without makeup look' then i paid no mind to them, because unless they stared into my eyes 2 feet away from my face, they were justu another color-running blob in my field of vision. nice cop-out huh?
i have so much more to write that i've been thinking about, but it's late and i should be in bed 2 hours ago. i'm scared, i'm confused a lot, but somewhere deep down, buried there's a hope and a knowledge that everything's going to be ok, going to be beautiful.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
eavesdropping over your shoulder
i went to the tea lounge again today. ever time i go in there i feel like i'm somewhere safe, and cozy and homey. I almost fell asleep there today but i got scared of looking like an idiot and people laughing at me. right now i'm reading perelandra (from christy's loverly library) by c.s.lewis--it's delicious, except now i want to read that instead of actually doing my reading for school. oh well, i'll just train myself to be able to do both, i mean, it's possible. at the tea lounge today, i settled into this plush armchair on top of a stained oriental rug and just started writing. maybe because it was so cozy in there, or my head was in the clouds, or my body was so relaxed by my coffee that i slipped down into the crevices of my armchair and started writing ridiculousness, but i was inspired in a weird way. so here are the thoughts of a girl who wants to be wendybird, sitting, dreaming in a little coffee shop on the corner of court and douglass:
i have all these little writings an ramblings and earlier this summer i was going to write about moments in people's lives--just snapshots of tics and idiosyncrasies that show something deeper underneath. it's like all these moments in the human journey to find something, some meaning, some love, some purpose. i was brushing my teeth this morning and the idea just came to me to write a book of moments--from the most mundane and odd to the most beautiful and big ideas that are broiling underneath that ultimately give way to all the existences of all these people.
i had a book when i was little called "outside-in" where you see how people look on the outside and then lift a flap and see all their insides and muscles and things that hold them together but are concealed from the outside. i was just thinking about that idea combined with writing.
all of us, like it or not, are made up of moments that give way to experiences which birth truths and eventually make us into who we are. we all have those defining moments when something clicks or pushes you over the edge to act or make a decision or think a certain way...and what if i could get those, observe those and put them down into moments. usually when we look back on moments where we made up our minds about something or started to believe something--it was small at first and unmemorable to people passing by or observing us. what moments are in a certain person's life that are key?--but not cliche--i mean of course the moment when you realize you're in love with someone or the moment you make up your mind about a certain person or group of people--the moment when you decide what beauty is and whether you encompass it or not. i don't know...the interesting thing about all of these moments is that they don't just happen once but have the potential to be re-experienced and in turn change you again. and all these moments layer and layer and layer on top of each other until you're old and wrinkled and all you have are these layers of moments that made up your life. it's beautiful, really.
i sound stoned"
i have all these little writings an ramblings and earlier this summer i was going to write about moments in people's lives--just snapshots of tics and idiosyncrasies that show something deeper underneath. it's like all these moments in the human journey to find something, some meaning, some love, some purpose. i was brushing my teeth this morning and the idea just came to me to write a book of moments--from the most mundane and odd to the most beautiful and big ideas that are broiling underneath that ultimately give way to all the existences of all these people.
i had a book when i was little called "outside-in" where you see how people look on the outside and then lift a flap and see all their insides and muscles and things that hold them together but are concealed from the outside. i was just thinking about that idea combined with writing.
all of us, like it or not, are made up of moments that give way to experiences which birth truths and eventually make us into who we are. we all have those defining moments when something clicks or pushes you over the edge to act or make a decision or think a certain way...and what if i could get those, observe those and put them down into moments. usually when we look back on moments where we made up our minds about something or started to believe something--it was small at first and unmemorable to people passing by or observing us. what moments are in a certain person's life that are key?--but not cliche--i mean of course the moment when you realize you're in love with someone or the moment you make up your mind about a certain person or group of people--the moment when you decide what beauty is and whether you encompass it or not. i don't know...the interesting thing about all of these moments is that they don't just happen once but have the potential to be re-experienced and in turn change you again. and all these moments layer and layer and layer on top of each other until you're old and wrinkled and all you have are these layers of moments that made up your life. it's beautiful, really.
i sound stoned"
hopeless romantic that i am
this here is a little song that i've rediscovered recently by the lovely rosie thomas (and friend sufjan stevens)
Say Hello
If I find him, if I just follow
Would he hold me and never let me go
Would he let me borrow his old winter coat
I don't know
I don't know
If I see her standing there alone
At the train station three stops from her home
I have half a mind to say what I'm thinking anyway
But, I don't know
I don't know
There's an airplane in the sky
With a banner right behind
Loneliness is just a crime
Look each other in the eye
And say hello
Oh oh oh oh
And say hello
Oh oh oh oh oh
Hey there, how you doing?
Hi, my name's Mary!
Say Hello
If I find him, if I just follow
Would he hold me and never let me go
Would he let me borrow his old winter coat
I don't know
I don't know
If I see her standing there alone
At the train station three stops from her home
I have half a mind to say what I'm thinking anyway
But, I don't know
I don't know
There's an airplane in the sky
With a banner right behind
Loneliness is just a crime
Look each other in the eye
And say hello
Oh oh oh oh
And say hello
Oh oh oh oh oh
Hey there, how you doing?
Hi, my name's Mary!
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
sleep don't weep
i keep erasing everything i write. although it is far from good, it's something and in my mind, unworthy to be read or even exist in this weird little blogosphere that houses all my ramblings and nonsense.
The other day i was sitting on the F train, which i must admit, is not nearly as bright and lively as the old 2 train, partly because the seats are crammed against one another and an awful orange light pervades the entire car, because the seats area ll painted a mandarin orange circa suburban 1972. Anyways, i was sitting crammed in my little corner, knocking knees with the stranger diagonally from me when out of the corner of my eye i spy a man that i immediately pen as a guido. unbottened shirt, gold chains, pressed pants, cabbie hat, slicked hair. guido. and i'm thinking to myself, what is that guy up to,just don't look at him, he's all about the ladies, he just wants to make eye contact with the next chick that comes his way. and then the guy gets bored. he gets bored and starts pulling receipts outta his pocket, all folded and crumpled and he takes each one and smoothes it out, irons out al the creases and folds over his knee and begins to make a paper airplane. at first i can't believe this guy is doing this. he's like 50 and making paper airplanes outta reciepts on the subway. he folds, meticulously creases, folds again and sets his finished work on the empty seat beside him. reaches in his pocket, pulls out another faded receipt, and does the same thing. he repeats this fro four or five reciepts and i'm entranced. this man's body is doing something that seems so unnatural--something that first-graders do when they're bored, and as weird as it was, it was so beautiful and so, surprisingly refreshing how people can surprise you again and again without doing anything, by just being. and then i though, i would like to have one of those little paper airplanes, but my nerves got the best of me and i got out of the train empty-handed.
you know how people, when they get married have people throw rice or blow bubbles or release birds or something? well, at my wedding, i think people should fly little paper airplanes. for some reason, it seems unbelievably fitting, and a little absurd, but i like it.
insomnia's kicking in, i should probably turn in for the night before more absurd rambling takes over
The other day i was sitting on the F train, which i must admit, is not nearly as bright and lively as the old 2 train, partly because the seats are crammed against one another and an awful orange light pervades the entire car, because the seats area ll painted a mandarin orange circa suburban 1972. Anyways, i was sitting crammed in my little corner, knocking knees with the stranger diagonally from me when out of the corner of my eye i spy a man that i immediately pen as a guido. unbottened shirt, gold chains, pressed pants, cabbie hat, slicked hair. guido. and i'm thinking to myself, what is that guy up to,just don't look at him, he's all about the ladies, he just wants to make eye contact with the next chick that comes his way. and then the guy gets bored. he gets bored and starts pulling receipts outta his pocket, all folded and crumpled and he takes each one and smoothes it out, irons out al the creases and folds over his knee and begins to make a paper airplane. at first i can't believe this guy is doing this. he's like 50 and making paper airplanes outta reciepts on the subway. he folds, meticulously creases, folds again and sets his finished work on the empty seat beside him. reaches in his pocket, pulls out another faded receipt, and does the same thing. he repeats this fro four or five reciepts and i'm entranced. this man's body is doing something that seems so unnatural--something that first-graders do when they're bored, and as weird as it was, it was so beautiful and so, surprisingly refreshing how people can surprise you again and again without doing anything, by just being. and then i though, i would like to have one of those little paper airplanes, but my nerves got the best of me and i got out of the train empty-handed.
you know how people, when they get married have people throw rice or blow bubbles or release birds or something? well, at my wedding, i think people should fly little paper airplanes. for some reason, it seems unbelievably fitting, and a little absurd, but i like it.
insomnia's kicking in, i should probably turn in for the night before more absurd rambling takes over
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