Talked to K for a very long time today. probably out stayed my welcome, but, will not be there again til Friday. So, I guess that is ok. Starting Journey to balance 8 weeks with Rodney Yee. So maybe by christmas I will be like totaly centered. Mind, body, and soul all in perfect harmony. Living in and reacting in the moment. I can, I will, I must. Time to do and show, and not say and blow. Wow what a pathetic rhyme. Beautiful eyes. Lovely voice. Salsa day. Gifts tomorrow. Plans for Friday. New work out routine and success through force of will. Waiting for the shoe to drop. And now back to our regularly scheduled boredom.
SAE
EDIT:
Sometimes all these realities come to pass. I feel very ....something today. I talked to Kate for a long time. I learned new things about her. I think I like her even more now. Some day we may even be real friends. All relationships take time. I will make sure I have the answers this time. I like her too much, much more than is good for me. I find her very interesting and I think she would be fascinating to hang out with. I will take it at its' own pace, and see what is what. Need to just focus on my life and my business, and let the rest fall where it may. I want to go to Italy tonight, right now as a matter of fact. Still will wait, still will save, and when I go, may just not come back, not while W is still the commander and chief. Tired. Made some more salsa, and tried the essence over Ice Cream, it was very good.
Ciao princepessa.
SAE
Walking Around
It so happens that I am tired of just being a man.
I go to a movie, drop in at the tailorsit so happens
Feeling wizened and numbed, like a big, wooly swan,
Awash on an ocean of clinkers and causes.
A whiff from a barbershop does it: I yell bloody murder.
All I ask is a little vacation from things: from boulders and
Woolens,
From gardens, institutional projects, merchandise,
Eyeglasses, elevatorsId rather not look at them.
It so happens I am fedwith my feet and my fingernails
And my hair and my shadow.
Being a man leaves me cold: thats how it is.
Still it would be lovely
To wave a cut lily and panic a notary,
Or finish a nun with a jab to the ear.
It would be nice
Just to walk down the street with a green switchblade handy,
Whooping it up till I die of the shivers.
I wont live like thislike a root in a shadow,
Wide-open and wondering, teeth chattering sleepily,
Going down to the dripping entrails of the universe
Absorbing things, taking things in, eating three squares a day.
Ive had all Ill take from catastrophe.
I wont have it this way, muddling through like a root or a grave,
All alone underground, in a morgue of cadavers,
Cold as a stiff, dying of misery.
Thats why Monday flares up like an oil-slick,
When it sees me up close, with the face of a jailbird,
Or squeaks like a broken down wheel as it goes,
Stepping hot-blooded into the night.
Something shoves me toward certain damp houses, into certain
Dark corners,
Into hospitals, with bones flying out of the windows;
Into shoe stores smelling of vinegar,
Streets frightful as fissures laid open.
There, trussed to the doors of the houses I loathe
Are the sulphurous birds, in horror of tripes,
Dental plates lost in a coffeepot,
Mirrors
That must surely have wept with the nightmare and shame of it all;
And everywhere poisons, umbrellas, and belly buttons.
I stroll and keep cool, in my eyes and my shoes
And my rage and oblivion.
I go on, crossing offices, retail orthopedics,
Courtyards with laundry hung out on a wire:
The blouses and towels and the drawers newly washed,
Slowly dribbling a slovenly tear.
Pablo Neruda
SAE
EDIT:
Sometimes all these realities come to pass. I feel very ....something today. I talked to Kate for a long time. I learned new things about her. I think I like her even more now. Some day we may even be real friends. All relationships take time. I will make sure I have the answers this time. I like her too much, much more than is good for me. I find her very interesting and I think she would be fascinating to hang out with. I will take it at its' own pace, and see what is what. Need to just focus on my life and my business, and let the rest fall where it may. I want to go to Italy tonight, right now as a matter of fact. Still will wait, still will save, and when I go, may just not come back, not while W is still the commander and chief. Tired. Made some more salsa, and tried the essence over Ice Cream, it was very good.
Ciao princepessa.
SAE
Walking Around
It so happens that I am tired of just being a man.
I go to a movie, drop in at the tailorsit so happens
Feeling wizened and numbed, like a big, wooly swan,
Awash on an ocean of clinkers and causes.
A whiff from a barbershop does it: I yell bloody murder.
All I ask is a little vacation from things: from boulders and
Woolens,
From gardens, institutional projects, merchandise,
Eyeglasses, elevatorsId rather not look at them.
It so happens I am fedwith my feet and my fingernails
And my hair and my shadow.
Being a man leaves me cold: thats how it is.
Still it would be lovely
To wave a cut lily and panic a notary,
Or finish a nun with a jab to the ear.
It would be nice
Just to walk down the street with a green switchblade handy,
Whooping it up till I die of the shivers.
I wont live like thislike a root in a shadow,
Wide-open and wondering, teeth chattering sleepily,
Going down to the dripping entrails of the universe
Absorbing things, taking things in, eating three squares a day.
Ive had all Ill take from catastrophe.
I wont have it this way, muddling through like a root or a grave,
All alone underground, in a morgue of cadavers,
Cold as a stiff, dying of misery.
Thats why Monday flares up like an oil-slick,
When it sees me up close, with the face of a jailbird,
Or squeaks like a broken down wheel as it goes,
Stepping hot-blooded into the night.
Something shoves me toward certain damp houses, into certain
Dark corners,
Into hospitals, with bones flying out of the windows;
Into shoe stores smelling of vinegar,
Streets frightful as fissures laid open.
There, trussed to the doors of the houses I loathe
Are the sulphurous birds, in horror of tripes,
Dental plates lost in a coffeepot,
Mirrors
That must surely have wept with the nightmare and shame of it all;
And everywhere poisons, umbrellas, and belly buttons.
I stroll and keep cool, in my eyes and my shoes
And my rage and oblivion.
I go on, crossing offices, retail orthopedics,
Courtyards with laundry hung out on a wire:
The blouses and towels and the drawers newly washed,
Slowly dribbling a slovenly tear.
Pablo Neruda