interlude (or, it’s 3 a.m. and i don’t want to lose this thought)
Tuesday July 04th 2006, 5:47 pm


solitude, i find, demands a small price. and it’s a price my overtaxed heart paid willingly over the past weekend. i had never even imagined that i was still capable of feeling such deep, incomprehensible joy. and little did i expect that the exhaustion that usually follows such an expansion of sentiment would overwhelm me completely.

you should have been there spank. you should have stood right where i stood and watched that dying, shining quiet stretch out onto the sand and into the sea. you should have seen the sky and the way the sun bowed out gracefully. forgive my dime-a-dozen description, but it was truly fucking exquisite.

i was describing this phenomenon last night to two of my closest friends—overarchievers and owners of empires in their own right—over galettes and an absorbing discussion on the world cup, germany, the US dollar, web content, racism and our anxiety-ridden, mechanical lives.

this was me being buddha: “spend one day of your life with yourself. alone, but not lonely. just you and the world looking at each other with a consuming hunger. looking, but not touching.”

bliss. it shows its face when you realize that you are not a lone girl in a string bikini. you are not what they call you and not what you answer to. you are not this dark lager you’re drinking, the first bottle you’ve had in almost six years. you are not the afterhours audience at a jazz improv crawling with singers and their hyena-like sprechstimme. you are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.

this is me being me: “you are discontent. yet you deserve one shot at some happiness that is beyond anything you could ever think to put down on paper. fuck, where’s the little girls’ room? i can’t believe i’m actually still sober.”

1 Comments

monsterspank said...
kimsky darling... rest your mind. i miss you miss me