it's a fine looking world today.
it is hard to be sad on such a sweet and light day. all my impending obligations stand in line patiently, but with itches to harm, today. at bay but not for much longer. it reminds me of the equi poem about sitting at the window and waiting for the view outside to approach. yes.
(also keep thinking of the koertge poem that is a shelled out wreck, all light and thin and seemingly unaware of the devastation. you know, the one that goes something like "after finding out her brains are the composition of jelly bones...walked out to the parking lot. one day i will make a fine looking boy indeed" etc etc. sorry for mangling it but oh. the cold cuts through cotton tshirts, blue sky air like fiberglass in your system. insidiously tiny, sinister while meek. ...)
one good thing about spring, if i can keep my head long enough and coast on this, is that all the doctoral presentations come out in their finest dress. i happily anticipate this, and there's a slew of dissertation presentations (mostly linked to gspia) up in batting order. lovely lovely. my favorite aspect of the spring term in a way.
also, a korean film festival in april. and taking pictures if i'm not too freaking young as usual. we'll see.
now, if only i could do these things i need to do, that everybody does so easily, and get on with it. my whole life is composed in the tiny spaces between big mundane typical/normal activities. like today. the lunch, the grass, the sky, the ankles. spring air and hurt, still hurt. juice bottles, lone cats. i don't know anyone in this city. i don't even know where the best meal is, or who makes the best italian sausage, or where to get the best book bindings. still in a lonely place, always. and five hours away means about as much as i don't know you, i don't know what you do, i don't know what you go through or attempt to be brave about or anything. and meanwhile your sister can dance with a cute boy. i think i'm going to hell. all light and coasting.
more later. i miss bryce and i think carl is wonderful, splendid. and i never want to see -- again.
(also keep thinking of the koertge poem that is a shelled out wreck, all light and thin and seemingly unaware of the devastation. you know, the one that goes something like "after finding out her brains are the composition of jelly bones...walked out to the parking lot. one day i will make a fine looking boy indeed" etc etc. sorry for mangling it but oh. the cold cuts through cotton tshirts, blue sky air like fiberglass in your system. insidiously tiny, sinister while meek. ...)
one good thing about spring, if i can keep my head long enough and coast on this, is that all the doctoral presentations come out in their finest dress. i happily anticipate this, and there's a slew of dissertation presentations (mostly linked to gspia) up in batting order. lovely lovely. my favorite aspect of the spring term in a way.
also, a korean film festival in april. and taking pictures if i'm not too freaking young as usual. we'll see.
now, if only i could do these things i need to do, that everybody does so easily, and get on with it. my whole life is composed in the tiny spaces between big mundane typical/normal activities. like today. the lunch, the grass, the sky, the ankles. spring air and hurt, still hurt. juice bottles, lone cats. i don't know anyone in this city. i don't even know where the best meal is, or who makes the best italian sausage, or where to get the best book bindings. still in a lonely place, always. and five hours away means about as much as i don't know you, i don't know what you do, i don't know what you go through or attempt to be brave about or anything. and meanwhile your sister can dance with a cute boy. i think i'm going to hell. all light and coasting.
more later. i miss bryce and i think carl is wonderful, splendid. and i never want to see -- again.