VERY much so am I over having to hear the sounds of people I don't find attractive having sex . . . !
And yes, I wouldn't mind so much if at least I was at times contributing my own lovesong to the ambient sounds of the night, but the fact is that I don't and so I do.
So there.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
respirare
the moment you are no longer breathing, you are no longer living.
true.
so why then the constant need to remind and remember and recall what it is to breathe?
perhaps without the process another version of death would take over.
true.
so why then the constant need to remind and remember and recall what it is to breathe?
perhaps without the process another version of death would take over.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
coming up
OK, so this is some randomness: I'm coming out of the Metro and there's a homeless man standing at the top of the escalator - asking for whatever he can get, you know?
And I start to walk past him, but then I have a Spirit-induced nudge turn me back around to address this man - this, I'm sure too-often-slighted fellow human being.
And I'm aware of my moral auto-pilot turning on as I say to him 'I can buy you some food.'
Now, upon addressing him directly I realize a couple of things immediately: that he's much taller and well-kept than he appeared to be from afar, and that he's kind of sort of high.
He says to me, in a mildly annoyed/dismissive sort of way, shaking his head as if I just asked him what two plus two is, 'Nah . . . I don't have anything, I don't have a place to go, anything to eat--'
OK . . . so maybe he didn't quite hear me. His eyes are kind of unfocused . . . I'll try again.
Me: I'll buy you something to eat. Do you want something to eat?
Him: Oh . . . Well, yeah . . . I'll take a cheeseburger and a soda if you gonna do that.
Me: What kind of soda?
Him (again apparently losing patience with me): I don't know, a coke, it don't matter.
Me: Alright.
And I go inside Five Guys (a rare establishment in that they're open at that time of night, and strategically placed so that you see and smell them before the escalator even brings you to street level) and I wait to place my order.
A minute or so passes and I order, after which I turn around to look outside and see where he is. After some glancing around I finally focus on him. Sure enough, he's looking at me. I stay in line and wait to pick up my order.
Another couple of minutes pass and it comes up. I pack the bag with appropriate condiments and some change and then I head outside . . . and homeboy is NOwhere to be found.
A 360 walk around the Metro entrance reveals NOT A TRACE of his whereabouts.
. . .
And there I am, not only less 10 dollars, but holding in my hands a meal that lies entirely outside the realm of my dietary preferences . . . .
Admittedly, I had about a 30 second bout of feeling extremely foolish, but then for whatever reason, I got alright. Like, all the way fine about the whole deal.
Funny, no?
And I start to walk past him, but then I have a Spirit-induced nudge turn me back around to address this man - this, I'm sure too-often-slighted fellow human being.
And I'm aware of my moral auto-pilot turning on as I say to him 'I can buy you some food.'
Now, upon addressing him directly I realize a couple of things immediately: that he's much taller and well-kept than he appeared to be from afar, and that he's kind of sort of high.
He says to me, in a mildly annoyed/dismissive sort of way, shaking his head as if I just asked him what two plus two is, 'Nah . . . I don't have anything, I don't have a place to go, anything to eat--'
OK . . . so maybe he didn't quite hear me. His eyes are kind of unfocused . . . I'll try again.
Me: I'll buy you something to eat. Do you want something to eat?
Him: Oh . . . Well, yeah . . . I'll take a cheeseburger and a soda if you gonna do that.
Me: What kind of soda?
Him (again apparently losing patience with me): I don't know, a coke, it don't matter.
Me: Alright.
And I go inside Five Guys (a rare establishment in that they're open at that time of night, and strategically placed so that you see and smell them before the escalator even brings you to street level) and I wait to place my order.
A minute or so passes and I order, after which I turn around to look outside and see where he is. After some glancing around I finally focus on him. Sure enough, he's looking at me. I stay in line and wait to pick up my order.
Another couple of minutes pass and it comes up. I pack the bag with appropriate condiments and some change and then I head outside . . . and homeboy is NOwhere to be found.
A 360 walk around the Metro entrance reveals NOT A TRACE of his whereabouts.
. . .
And there I am, not only less 10 dollars, but holding in my hands a meal that lies entirely outside the realm of my dietary preferences . . . .
Admittedly, I had about a 30 second bout of feeling extremely foolish, but then for whatever reason, I got alright. Like, all the way fine about the whole deal.
Funny, no?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Just Do It.
. . . I love the words that come from your mind. Even better when they've made it to your mouth.
But the very best is when they've made it to reality.
But the very best is when they've made it to reality.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
higher heights
(Feeling marginally inspired, yet placing my fingers along the board nonetheless.)
Forcing myself to rebuild and regain a trust that I had no business eliminating in the first place. Regarding the natural assembly of existence, the struggle to comprehend the ease with which I am supposed to function reminds me to release myself from all resistance.
Having fallen freely at some point(s), I attest that landing comes painlessly (so long as you wish to no longer remain airborne).
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
sleep over
(laughing)
the 4 year old internal that knows there will be no reprimand . . . . the woman and a half who needs no reprimand, knowing she knows what she needs to know . . . and do.
they meet once again, as the clock strikes and tolls and tells us all where to place our heads.
Monday, March 2, 2009
earthquake weather
The curious composition of what fits . . . married with the unflinching desire to cause a rift. Seeking something always present, seldom allowing for the simplicity of what by nature is truly pleasant.
Why and how are you right now?
Why and how are we anything I suppose, so moot the question . . . .
Unless you have a response.
If not, I'll imagine my curiosity satisfied, save for the moments of incomprehensible thoughts ablaze in my mind.
. . .
Such as: Is this where I leave good enough alone?
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