| [July 1, 2002] [10:44 AM] [Current Mood : philosophical] [Current Music : Julianna Theory] It's nearly 11 AM and I haven't gone to bed yet. I should be sleeping. I'd rather be sleeping. I just can't stop thinking. I can't find the words I had. The napkin I wrote was crumpled and unkept and the writing, tiny and bleeding. Something written there ment something to someone and I don't think that person was me. Mmm...what a waste of thought. Cafes and night clubs and things left unsaid All of this clutters the space in my head Wishing and hoping for dreams to come true Wishing and hoping for dreams filled with you That was random. Can't think S T R A I G H T 22 Oct 2002..............................Waiting......................... Waiting. Waiting for the coffee. Always waiting for something it seems. Waiting for Corbin to get home Waiting for my mind to calm down, waiting for the opportunity to smoke a cigarette. But most of all waiting for my mind to calm down. Keep thinking about autumn. Leaves falling, wind blowing, and the past that I think about every October. "Texx should be coming over any minute now." I keep telling myself, but Texx has moved on to somewhere and no longer lives just down the street. I can still smell the nights when he would come over. Warm, crispy and balanced. The smell of baked apple pie and sweet vanilla tea are everywhere, mingled in the air and transfixed in my mind. I see every day two years ago over again in my head, like a cruel slideshow. Pictures of friends, pictures of places, pictures of times. But most of all one face repeating over and over, a sick memory to remind me of what I've lost. Karen... If I could name off 300 people I want to see again, her name would be the first. This does me great poetic injustice. I wish I had scribbled this down on some cocktail napkin in a sleazy diner, somewhere in the midwest in some forgotten town. (Scratch down something illegible here.) Turn and listen. Hear the changes in the air. Know it's almost winter. |