she wanted his eyes
to say it all, while his lips
said it otherwise

Tomorrow is the first day of Hanukkah. It'll be a year since my grandmother passed away.

I need to stop missing you.

Sleepless in Seattle is such a great movie. Why am I doing this to myself? More importantly, how is it that I've never been to the Empire State Building? Why on earth did I visit the Rockefeller Center without first going to the Empire State Building?

Horrible Idea

Watching When Harry Met Sally after a full day at work that followed a night of sleepless tossing and turning. It's the fast lane to puffy eyes and tear-stained sheets. I'm like a five-year old deprived of chocolate ice cream, but without the satisfaction of throwing a tantrum. It's awful.

She hoped for the last scenario, the very improbably one, so steadily that she started questioning her sanity. Waking up in a sweat, the covers at the foot of her somewhat absurd, grand bed, she was terrified of opening her eyes. Wiping the warm pool of sweat down towards her navel, she started shivering. The room was already brightly lit with the sunshine of the day, a sunlight softened by sheer linen curtains. Without opening her eyes, she pulled the thick ocean-coloured covers over her head and finally let her eyelids open. She reached her arm out of her cocoon-like fort, in a reflex-like fashion, towards a glass of water sitting atop a stack of several books. 


Mornings were easy; evenings were far more difficult.

Ladybugs on the windowsill
deep into December
leave me perplexed 

gonna wash my hands of you

Address Is Approximate from The Theory on Vimeo.

“You get a little moody sometimes but I think that's because you like to read. People that like to read are always a little fucked up.” 
Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tides

the alcohol set in and the room emptied as she sat, hearing only the reverberations of her heartbeat and melancholy 

the crowd and noise moved past, undetected 

the thoughts she had gotten so good as suppressing resurfaced and there she was, tears streaming down her face, falling into a chasm

the room buzzed with the liveliness of a party winding down

I miss you.

From tired with love

The name's bond. Callable bond.
The name's bond. Nonrefundable bond.
...

A Psalm of Life

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist 

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,—act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Thinking about it for quite some time
and having waited until they were all quite done 
she finally picked it up
It wasn't quite the vibrant, warm and deep colour she remembered it to be
It was dusty, and she even found some shards of glass embedded in its soft tissue
Some crevices had formed between the ventricles 
It's time to stop letting others wring out your heart, she thought, as she studied  her organ
palpitating irregularly 

Death and the Maiden

Edvard Munch, 1883/1884

She dreaded sleep

More precisely, she dreaded the time spent lying, alone, in the darkness - thoughts circling, acutely aware of her loneliness.  

One of Rodin's erotic sketches

How convenient that rejected and dejected rhyme...

She asked if I was a dancer,
Maybe in another world that's true


The wet pavement reminds me of this quote:


“When small drops began to fall and darken the world in penny-shaped circles, no one around him scurried for cover. For lonely people, rain is a chance to be touched.” 
     Simon Van Booy

That's the thing. 
Sometimes, you want a city to engulf you. To fade into the lights of the evening, the breeze, the noises of dusk - the brisk pace of your gait acting as a heartbeat. To feel anonymous, to feel free.

Another night of this?
Yes, I'm afraid it will be. 
A dreamless sleep, wavering between sleep and waking


The sleepless hours, hours
hours, hours


days

Fucking coward.