Thursday, April 30, 2009

all i want want want

maybe if i just... i would be happy.

*lived life like a joni mitchell song
*had a road bike instead of a mountain/bmx hybrid
*had a long wig in bouncey blonde and dark and mysterious brunette one
*went on more dates
*wasnt allergic to so many things
*had a cleaner room and i could find something, anything
*had overseas plans i was excited about. an escape plan of any kind
*could get the books i wanted from the library and didnt have to order them from the states
*could be bothered to go to yoga and be the fit & flexible person i dream of
*could back up my lifes work on my computer without it doing weird shit and corrupting files
*had headphones that didnt press on my ears and give me headaches
*lived in a different city
*had gotten into uni and not just shortlisted, or applied to more than one uni
*had the fifth season of the L word waiting here for me to watch
*had an honest conversation with you about what is going on and how we both actually felt
*could eat sugar without it fucking me up. ditto for coffee
*find out who the designer was for these awesome hot purple platforms i saw on tv
*went to my mums house and my dog was still there and i could pat her
*rewind time and do it all again
*didnt have a house with such a seriously bizarre and all consuming ant problem that i can only be apathetic about
*had more people around me that creatively stimulated me or could actually have plans that stick with people that are around, here, somewhere
*was happy with what i had instead of what i think i need or want

Friday, April 24, 2009

'Tell me,' I said at last, 'is there really no other way for you but this? To kneel down forever before an army of boys for just five dirty minutes in the dark?'
'Think,' said Jacques 'of the men who have kneeled before you while you thought of something else and pretended nothing was happening down there in the dark between your legs.'
I stared at the amber cognac and at the wet rings on the metal. Deep below, trapped in the metal, the outline of my own face looked upward hopelessly at me.
'You think,' he persisted, ' that my life is shameful because my encounters are. And they are.
But you should ask yourself why they are.'
'Why are they - shameful?' I asked him.
'Because there is no affection in them, and no joy. It's like putting an electric plug in a dead socket. Touch, but no contact. All touch, but no contact and no light.'
I asked him: 'Why?'
'That you must ask yourself,' he told me, 'and perhaps one day this morning will not be ashes in your mouth.'
-Giovanni's Room
James Baldwin