they pulled my hair at charm school.
they
stole my guestbook during
rolecall.
night hrs demand things of me. + March 3. 2002 = 7:39 p.m.
+ Enamored of quote left in digital account by scull: "Well this is a story about people who are so far beyond need, who want and have figured out that it's never too soon to make demands of this life, this world, this everything. It's about how nice it must be to just decide I will not be nice, I am never sorry, I have no regrets: what is before me belongs to me." _ last night & sit in small movie theater and watch in the bedroom. hold onto ben's hand and one sequence of scenes brings me to tears. impressed with the half-light that gave the film its quiet backbone. impressed with the way grief filled the role of : main character. also, the actor (what is his name??!) who played the father. his whole facial structure altered after his son's death. walk warm sidewalks up hill to apt34. rain. traffic thinned at midnight + minutes. lounge on bed with ben in his grey tshirt, long limbs, goofy smile that is returned with my own. open windows to air and sound is : rain on the roof. in the morning : just enough time for breakfast at stable's crowded counter. at night, march third : seven o.clock walk home by myself. sunday nytime's tucked under one arm. umbrella & the wind. mind an unruly minefield. sometimes, feel attention span is remarkably short and foolishly attracted by wrong things. (ooo. look at those shoes in window. ooo, fashion magazines & drool. wants multiply.) but every now & then am kicked with thought : must.Better.my.Life. as if i am trying to place spell on myself instead of just doing the hard work of applying my physical self to the filling out of forms and acquiring for more info. you know, some things slip if you don�t clutch at them. (must remind self as am Queen of Don�t.Seem.Too. needy _ desperate _ determined. g a w d forbid!!?! ) am reading three books (Remembrance of Things Past, Cannery Row, book by Fenton Johnson.). am in middle of cleaning & organizing apt34. laundry sits waiting by door. run down stairs . quarters and try to keep up with one_thousand_one+ projects i dreamt up and now need to follow through with. also, charmed by songs on college radio station. taken in by certain chords, pauses, and words. (built to spill�s fly around my pretty little head. & song with boy that whines: 'cuz the beautiful were never meant to suffer... but now im haunted by these visions... & i don't want to know me better. ) s u n d a y �s night time hrs. eh.
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