green automobile: return some other time
wow, i haven't written in awhile.
i also have not been reading as much as i would like to. it's all school and more school these days. i would go on about how that's not necessarily negative, but i think that's all i ever write about in here these days, when i do write.
i get woken up early
you'd like to come and wake me up
but you've always been the later sleeper
you ask me casually what book i'm reading
and when i tell you what school book it is
you ask me again:
no
what book is it you really want to read?
so i tell you
and we're off
and you blindfold me and drive my car
and it's actually very nice to not be distracted for once by physical images
that just go whipping past
and are gone
as soon as they come
and
you take off the blindfold
and you've taken us to the beach
and you've brought my favorite food
a blanket
my book
lawrence ferlinghetti
a boombox
and your art supplies.
and you tell me:
today is your day
to read until you fall off the end of the world
and not think about school
and about all the things you know you'll never do.
it was freezing that day
so we sat huddled together under an old patchwork blanket
and i read demian in german
and i read you ferlinghetti.
we didn't really talk:
we let the bitter wind seduce our soft skin
with each other's secrets.
it's interesting how one can genuinely lose interest in people. it's so fascinating to me because it's a strong reminder that the people we love represent the what we hate and love and secretly ache for. are people, then, relative? they often feel constant because we would like to think that our emotions are constant. i think people are constant in a certain frame of mind, and then they become relative when that frame of mind changes. how else could i explain this? someone i loved more than the whole world now disgusts me, and rather than say that what i felt was ingenuine, i would like to say it is all relative. we make the past out to be great and the future out to be even greater, but as unromantic as the present is, we love it the most. even if it we hate it and 'don't care' about the present [reality], we love it more than anything, because it's real. it is reality that is so incredibly seductive and incites us to hate or become apathetic or complacent or joyous etc. therefore i think all of what we feel [present] and not what we think we will feel/felt [future/past] is constant, even if that constancy changes in other ways. somebody felt this way about me once too, and i took it very personally. but now i see that it is very natural that we express this alienation which we find within ourselves by either embracing it or further alienating it. it shifts on and off for me &right now it's the latter.
sometimes i feel so real i can barely take it
and then i don't feel real at all.
and
i need to be studying japanese (i never do)
i feel older in some ways
i also feel very disconnected sometimes
eva
i also have not been reading as much as i would like to. it's all school and more school these days. i would go on about how that's not necessarily negative, but i think that's all i ever write about in here these days, when i do write.
i get woken up early
you'd like to come and wake me up
but you've always been the later sleeper
you ask me casually what book i'm reading
and when i tell you what school book it is
you ask me again:
no
what book is it you really want to read?
so i tell you
and we're off
and you blindfold me and drive my car
and it's actually very nice to not be distracted for once by physical images
that just go whipping past
and are gone
as soon as they come
and
you take off the blindfold
and you've taken us to the beach
and you've brought my favorite food
a blanket
my book
lawrence ferlinghetti
a boombox
and your art supplies.
and you tell me:
today is your day
to read until you fall off the end of the world
and not think about school
and about all the things you know you'll never do.
it was freezing that day
so we sat huddled together under an old patchwork blanket
and i read demian in german
and i read you ferlinghetti.
we didn't really talk:
we let the bitter wind seduce our soft skin
with each other's secrets.
it's interesting how one can genuinely lose interest in people. it's so fascinating to me because it's a strong reminder that the people we love represent the what we hate and love and secretly ache for. are people, then, relative? they often feel constant because we would like to think that our emotions are constant. i think people are constant in a certain frame of mind, and then they become relative when that frame of mind changes. how else could i explain this? someone i loved more than the whole world now disgusts me, and rather than say that what i felt was ingenuine, i would like to say it is all relative. we make the past out to be great and the future out to be even greater, but as unromantic as the present is, we love it the most. even if it we hate it and 'don't care' about the present [reality], we love it more than anything, because it's real. it is reality that is so incredibly seductive and incites us to hate or become apathetic or complacent or joyous etc. therefore i think all of what we feel [present] and not what we think we will feel/felt [future/past] is constant, even if that constancy changes in other ways. somebody felt this way about me once too, and i took it very personally. but now i see that it is very natural that we express this alienation which we find within ourselves by either embracing it or further alienating it. it shifts on and off for me &right now it's the latter.
sometimes i feel so real i can barely take it
and then i don't feel real at all.
and
i need to be studying japanese (i never do)
i feel older in some ways
i also feel very disconnected sometimes
eva