the snow and rain are violent outside but behind the double panes of glass it's sort of peaceful. it is almost as loud as yo la tengo in the background.
the turquoise made the white more fresh,
"blue mixed with white will still be blue, add water, the color is still true"
i'm surrounded by a chattering rat, piles of records and mixtapes like ghosts, sawdust, unfinished paintjobs, unfinished notes... papers. blankets and a yesterday's pants all bundled up. nietzsche, plato, hume, emma bovary, and the first few chapter's of j.m. coetzee's "disgrace."
i can see a few trees from my window and for a second, i thought i saw people in them like balloons and kites.
maybe i belong in another time.
i have this silly unglazed porcelain figure of a little girl with brown hair and big dark eyes. she is wearing an orange and brown jumper dress, stockings to her knees, and an orange kerchief around her head and neck. she is carrying books and a goose follows her. and that's all i've ever wanted, really... that skin like porcelain and the graded pink concentric circles between my eyes and the skin covering my bottom row of pearls in the back. soft linens covering it all. falling, not stretching. to be so beyond beatrix potter when the day is new, then getting the train from the countryside and quiet brooks to cobblestone roads with virginia woolf to talk, over tea and a light lunch. look at the stars and roll around in bed with j.d. salinger and then visit j.m. barrie in my dreams.
winter is absorbing and long but spring is on its way, and springtime is a hard time for aching hearts.
xxx,
bee
|
Anonymous guest, why not register, or login now.