ryman

A train across the country, back to the city after a couple of stolen days at home. Only half-sleeping; half listening to the sweet couple in the seats in front of me, talking about their yesterday and half staring out the window at the twilight trees and fields, cliffs and sea.

Moments like these when you pass unseen through little fragments of other people's lives; what do you take from them and what do you leave behind? Is it so ridiculous that I still find myself thinking about a girl I met waiting for a train in a strange city years ago? Or the friends I've met and seen slip away?
The utter arbitrariness of it scares me, makes me dream and wonder. It's that "brief encounter" story writ large over my entire life so far. Everything is time and change and distance and proximity.

I've loved people by accident and I've said things I shouldn't have said, hurt people in ways I didn't know I was capable of. Part of me desperately wants to believe that this is all fate, Karma or kismet or divine providence and the rest of me knows that I've only got one chance at this, it's down to little old me.
most of the time, that just makes me want to hide in/under my bed and tell the world to go away. And most of the rest of the time I'm just plain terrified/confused, not quite sure if I'm capable of anything. But it's the moments of clarity and brightness and stupid, pointless laughter that I dream about, wish for. And I'm sorry if that's too hard to deal with, makes me a difficult person to be around sometimes. But that's me.
Its the only way I know how to do it.
xoxo d

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songs for the day:
calexico: the crooked road and the briar
mark eitzel: to the sea
pretty girls make graves: the teeth collector
at the drive in: 198d
outkast: hey ya