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(3 whispers+ expostulate) a fortune cookie [12 Dec 2005|09:16pm] After dinner, the check is placed on the center of the table along with a couple of cookies. As I examin the check, Kevin reaches for a cookie and tosses the other my way. I crack it and remove the slip of paper: "It's a good time to start something new." Funny. Fortune cookies have never been applicable.

(5 whispers+ expostulate) It's much colder than you know. [06 Dec 2005|10:52pm] Outside, cigarette gently pinched between two gloved fingers, I could only smoke half. After having to relight it three times in under three minutes there was nothing else to do but toss it.

(1 whisper+ expostulate) notes on the past 10 minutes. [26 Nov 2005|02:43pm] life death love destination god vs God higher power vs one's own power hell = suffering of the soul heaven = ... what? happiness? life = heaven & hell life = what you make it god = you love = a means of creating your happiness everything you do is to sustain life

(expostulate) the silence of thanksgiving [24 Nov 2005|07:27pm] [ music | still loving you / scorpions ] This has been an interesting week. It snowed yesterday. It was seven forty-five in the morning and there was a weight on the day. I didn't even notice the inch-thick dusting until I walked out the front door; everything was soft and whisper-quiet. The company of such a white morning, all the weight fell off. An hour later, as I was driving home, the snow was gone, completely melted. Everything was back to its unflattering look of death. The grass half brown but not growing. The trees empty-armed. Inside my room I found the weight again. Today -- happy thanksgiving. It feels as if yesterday was so far away. Honestly, I could barely remember that it was yesterday morning that it had snowed. It felt days passed. I'm spending today alone. By choice. Somehow it just didn't feel right to do anything else; yet, I slept the day away in order to ignore the empty house a little more. I woke to phone calls to say, "Wake up," "Eat turkey," and "Be happy." It's nearly eight, 26 degrees (off the ocean), and I just came in from a walk. I was underdressed, wearing jeans, a few shirts, and a sweatshirt. One pair of gloves was not enough to stop the cold. From here, I walked to Broadway and down toward the shopping centers. I took the road that curves just close enough to the bridge leading to Portland and I sat on the chess-/checker-top table, staring at the lights on the water. The silence of today is unbelievable. There were so few cars about -- everyone settled in with their families -- that I could hear every leaf as it scratched across the street. I could hear the fizz of my cigarette as it hit the water. The walk back, however, was excrutiating; I really should have worn more clothing. Regardless, it was worth it. For you, I hope that today is/was just as peaceful.

(expostulate) yeah, I'm human [14 Nov 2005|11:43pm] It's like the dreams I had before. The dreams I would wake up from, breathing deep and praying to forget. The ones that would leave a sour taste in my mouth and an acidic burn in my stomach. What a dream, what a dream to have come true... I shouldn't care. But I do. And that's as specific as I need to be.

(expostulate) [07 Nov 2005|01:01am] The top of this rock holds my shoes, black and made for interviews. And the top of this rock holds my heart within the crack that runs to the center. I breathe the air that slithers up from the ocean and exhale smoke from every yesterday's indulgence. Three steps to the left and one down, there was a rock that held pieces of you. There, you dusted the surface with graphite and crushed the colors of the sunset. Red, orange, and a touch of purple mark the sides. Here, I tie the laces of my interview shoes and stand. I light a cigarette and inhale deeply. The crack of this rock, the core of this place, holds me still as I climb down and exhale.

(2 whispers+ expostulate) [30 Oct 2005|10:54pm] After my weird few days, I've decided that I should write a book ... And it's not going to just be funny. And it's not going to just be monotonously sad. And it's not going to be my/your/our life/lives. And not just any one thing, but the multitude that surrounds a heart/life. And, probably, this one should actually get written. To get it out of me.

(4 whispers+ expostulate) I have very little time to write this; please forgive any stupid mistakes. [26 Oct 2005|07:08am] Last night I had a dream. A very bad, very upsetting dream. Dreams like this are meant to be forgotten. But first, I need to get it out of me. I'll delete this later. Beginning: I don't know why, but I feel responsible for introducing them. Julia and Fred. I am given the impression I was supposed to be with them, but I had other things going on. They were together, anyway. Straight from that feeling, I talk to Fred and he says he's caused people to die and lists off the numbers. Images of cars fliping and buses tilted with children slipping through the windows. I don't remember the numbers. Remember specifically, though, two children. [Visualized as: bus tilted, children falling. Circle children. Two.] Backward a little, Fred and Julia are smoking pot in his car. Driving fast, happy. From there, there's a gap where my dream either stopped for a second, or a bunch of things happened that were not along the same line as this. [this felt as if it lasted forever.] / Forward now, I feel like I'm walking but know I'm driving. On the street are blood stains, smears, trails. You can tell where it bubbled up. [I feel as if there was a gap in the dream because it takes a moment to realize what this could be from. Then, as if suddenly, I remember images of cars flipping and etc.] I follow these marks and trails along the street. Then I'm indoors, still following splotches trails. I wonder if someone, hurt, came here for help. / Then, I'm in a bathroom with several people and my mother. This feels unrelated, however, because of the things before, I still seem upset. Also, generally upset at my mother. Feel as if I constantly have brow furrowed throughout whole dreams. Stresses, unhappiness, disbelief, etc. I walk down the hall, enter another room and find my grandmother. I tell her something along the lines of, "I don't know if I can forgive them," or "I don't think this can be made okay." Something like that. It seems as if I am confessing to her. As if she = priest / god. Still this whole time, I feel responsible. So "can't forgive them" = "can't forgive self" A bunch of things follow that, at this point, I've lost. But they did not feel very significant in terms of the dream and feelings. However, before I woke up, I ended up with Julia. I think she was planning to leave--I'm not sure. :end That's the jist. My brow is still furrowed. My heart still heavy. I hate this.

(2 whispers+ expostulate) [03 Oct 2005|01:42pm] I think that I'm going to make an effort to change. Don't be too shocked.

(4 whispers+ expostulate) they take me away from ... [26 Aug 2005|12:28pm] Oh. Things are better. I'm better. Happier, I guess. Partly because I've discovered that certain people I reach out to the most are not people I need in my life so much as I've previously thought. From there -- with that thought -- it's time to learn something new. The past has always had this weird hold of me. Today [and for the past few days] I've felt much more free of that. If it lasts, I think I'll be much better off.

(expostulate) [17 Aug 2005|01:10am] I want to vomit from this lonliness. My eyes are burning from nothing at all and you are gone. Farther away than you've ever felt. A little whiskey sits in my stomach and I think the world is turning over inside of me. On the drive home I made a call. I said, "I'm sorry I didn't get to see you." On the other end this voice masks disappointment with scarcasm. And I feel sick to my stomach because everything feels less solid as the days go by.

(expostulate) and it sweeps me into a deeper sleep [14 Aug 2005|11:00pm] It's exactly eleven o'clock and I know, at this moment, exactly what I am missing and to the extent to which it is not here. When night time really settles in, this feeling sweeps 'round me, making everything painfully real. I'm completely exhausted from my day and come home to find that no one has called, that no one has written, that no one is waiting for me to make any moves. In my mind, I'm slipping out of existence to all the people who once were people I would speak with daily. At eleven o'clock at night, after working eight to twelve hours, this idea hits me like all the weight of the oceans and pins me to the bed with only a hope that I can sleep through it. A sort of night time depression, I think. And when I finally close my eyes -- when I finally relax enough to sleep -- I dream of every one of you and awake feeling refreshed. But it's just a dream. "Don't tell me your afraid of the past. It's only the future that didn't last." I could explain how I think this came to happen. I could theorize. But there's no point in any of that, I'm realizing. The only point I can make is to say now, that if you ever knew me well enough you'll know now that I'm including you when I say that our friendship was/is important to me, dispite how it may appear.

(expostulate) the past, tarnished and buried [29 Jul 2005|12:04am] [ music | better than ezra / beautiful mistake ] There was this ring I used to wear around my neck. I've worn it since I was about 13 or 14 years old, though I've had it for much longer than that. It had a certain sentimental value. Over the years it has held it's color very well considering it was around my neck daily. Until this year, the silver had only become dulled. With all the work I've been doing outside [in the sun/heat], it finally became dark. Sort of brown. Sort of done, I figure. I'd thought about taking it off. Finding something new to wear. Putting it away in the box in the closet. But, it's kind of hard to let go of something like that. As I was unlocking the door to the house, my friend unlatched my necklace. [Why he did it ... who knows.] I saw the chain pull away from my neck and knew he only had one end. I managed to get out the words, "Don't lose my..." before I heard it hit the boards of the deck. One bounce. Then ... nothing. No rattle of it spinning on the wood. No metallic acknowledgement that it'd been safely caught. So there it is. There it lies. Beneath the deck somewhere. And dispite the fact that it's important to me, it was kind of a relief. A relief to know it wasn't a decision I had to make. That it's still close enough to get, if I need it.

(1 whisper+ expostulate) I have no doubt that you will know ... [27 Jul 2005|12:25am] Sometimes I write here in hopes that you will, too. So that maybe I can see into your mind a little better. So that I can see if I know all that I can know about you. Because believe it or not, you are a subject of which I do not easily tire. And your life ... well, I'm not as in-it as I used to be. I'm reaching when I come here. I'm reaching when I type in this address and scan through entry after entry that was not made by you. While everyone writes what makes them happy, some write just to write. And you don't write at all. Granted, this is overrated. I'm just trying to get back . . .

(4 whispers+ expostulate) Anxiety [23 Jun 2005|03:23pm] I need to get rid of a little aggression. I feel like there is a lot pent up. Not just aggression, but a little of everything. And if I don't scrape a little off the top now and then, the chances of me exploding at work are pretty definite. What do you suggest?

(expostulate) [02 May 2005|10:43pm] Life is a majority of loneliness.

(expostulate) it ends so abruptly. [16 Apr 2005|03:08pm] Death is something that I do not deal with very well. When someone dies, even if I didn't know them, it leaves a hole in the the day. A friend of my neighbors just died. I'm not great friends with my neighbor and I never met her friend, but I could hear crying this morning. A wall between us, I could hear her bawling. I went back to sleep. This afternoon I heard her outside, talking to someone on the phone. Apparently her friend went in for surgery and came back from surgery perfectly fine. Then she died of internal bleeding. And she cried. Said, "why?" and "how?" a lot. I figure it's so hard to deal with because [while I feel old most of the time] we are so young. And the picture of this unknown girl in my head, laying in a hospital bed ... it can't be easy. I don't think it can ever be easy.

(expostulate) [13 Apr 2005|01:31pm] My grandfather was in my dream last night. For the first time since he passed.

(1 whisper+ expostulate) override the feelings [10 Apr 2005|12:53pm] So I've gone through all the motions, gone to school, graduated, gone to college, got a little of that higher education everyone's always talking about, and now it's coming to an end. What do I do now? Sorry that I didn't enjoy college more, I really am. I wish I could have sunk into some subject or another where I really felt connected. Wish I could have had some of those quality college memories. But I'm afraid all my memories revolve around the city, not the school. Graduating is not going to be hard in the way that I will miss my professors. It's going to be harder deciding where to live now. Do I go to Mississippi or stay in Maine? Do I go back to my mom and give her a year of my company? Do I let her get used to that again? Or do I stay here, away from most of my family, and make a life away from them? Stay here with the irreplacable friends I've made, who don't share the "irreplacable" feeling? Or do I leave them all and find a new place? And when I get there, what am I going to do? I'm not scared of change. I'm scared of having gone through all this just to end up being comfortable sitting around the house with nothing to do because ... what do I want to do? That's that. That's how I feel right now. I think. It's difficult for me to separate my feelings from what I think I feel, sometimes. My mind tends to override my feelings a lot. Lucky for me, eh? Good luck to everyone on the verge of real-life.

(expostulate) [02 Apr 2005|01:40pm] Going to sleep was not good. Sleeping was not good. Dreaming of you was the worst. Waking up to remember it all is giving me stomach ache. "come and I'll take you under this beautiful bruise's colors. everything fades in time it's true. wish that I had another stab at the undercover. was it a change in mind for you?"

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