I've had a really hard week.
I feel a lot like I'm drowning, and
I'd like to just lie quietly
until all of this passes.
(It's not just Valentines-
It could be any day, any week)
But there are things to do,
papers and stories to write,
emails to return and people to see.
I've got the mean reds;
I've started smoking again,
and I can't stop reading.
Robert Hass, Larry Brown, Salman Rushdie
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
I went to Edinburgh for the weekend, to see Mr D.
It started with a hiccup: a used condom wrapper on his headboard that was not from me, a hostel reservation, deposit paid: place to go, seven cigarettes smoked rapidly on a street-corner, a conversation more silence than words, numbness, but also an understanding. We watched a movie, and he spent all two hours stroking my hair, scratching my back, lacing his fingers through mine. Apology both physical and verbal. The image of another girl in his bed touched away.
Friday night, there were drinks with his friends at the Jekyll and Hyde, where the bartender greeted me with, "Double Jack and Coke and a shot of tequila?" So much laughter, so much joy. Everything fit together; everything went right. He, unlike any other guy I've been with, makes me feel like I'm the only girl in the universe, like he's the lucky one.
Saturday morning: you know those scenes in romantic movies were the couple is in bed the morning after, and they're kissing, both under the sheet, and the sunlight makes their faces glow? All day Saturday was like that. He read to me from his favorite book, my head on his chest, feeling the way his voice growls.
He cooked dinner Saturday night for me and a few of his friends. There was wine and conversation. I've changed--a few months ago, I would never have suggested the dinner party for my last night, but now, it's more about having a good time, rather than having the right time, if that makes any sense.
He walked me to the bus stop (this is a pattern, isn't it? Since when was I the one that leaves?), stayed in line with me until I actually stepped on the bus. I don't even know where to begin thinking about how I feel. This was the goodbye weekend, even if he didn't know it. I'll probably see him again (he wants to come visit; I'm going back to see folks at St Andrews), but this is the weekend I want to remember.
It started with a hiccup: a used condom wrapper on his headboard that was not from me, a hostel reservation, deposit paid: place to go, seven cigarettes smoked rapidly on a street-corner, a conversation more silence than words, numbness, but also an understanding. We watched a movie, and he spent all two hours stroking my hair, scratching my back, lacing his fingers through mine. Apology both physical and verbal. The image of another girl in his bed touched away.
Friday night, there were drinks with his friends at the Jekyll and Hyde, where the bartender greeted me with, "Double Jack and Coke and a shot of tequila?" So much laughter, so much joy. Everything fit together; everything went right. He, unlike any other guy I've been with, makes me feel like I'm the only girl in the universe, like he's the lucky one.
Saturday morning: you know those scenes in romantic movies were the couple is in bed the morning after, and they're kissing, both under the sheet, and the sunlight makes their faces glow? All day Saturday was like that. He read to me from his favorite book, my head on his chest, feeling the way his voice growls.
He cooked dinner Saturday night for me and a few of his friends. There was wine and conversation. I've changed--a few months ago, I would never have suggested the dinner party for my last night, but now, it's more about having a good time, rather than having the right time, if that makes any sense.
He walked me to the bus stop (this is a pattern, isn't it? Since when was I the one that leaves?), stayed in line with me until I actually stepped on the bus. I don't even know where to begin thinking about how I feel. This was the goodbye weekend, even if he didn't know it. I'll probably see him again (he wants to come visit; I'm going back to see folks at St Andrews), but this is the weekend I want to remember.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
untitled 7
I didn't want to dance with your ghosts, but they were there, and the music was playing. And now I'm tired:
With every Dear John letter, I think 'I never thought I'd get here.' There is time, though, before you read that letter--
So throw me against your walls. I want you to pull me apart and like all the places where I fit together. I want to make you gasp, release sighs like specters, floating above your bed--a cloud of ghosts, pleasure past and intangible.
I'd like a silent violence this time. I'd like to leave with all my parts, clean and reassembled. I'd like to leave you with your ghosts.
With every Dear John letter, I think 'I never thought I'd get here.' There is time, though, before you read that letter--
So throw me against your walls. I want you to pull me apart and like all the places where I fit together. I want to make you gasp, release sighs like specters, floating above your bed--a cloud of ghosts, pleasure past and intangible.
I'd like a silent violence this time. I'd like to leave with all my parts, clean and reassembled. I'd like to leave you with your ghosts.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
contrary to popular belief:
I haven't forgotten about you. I just don't know where to start.
1. There was a fight. A screaming match with Mr D the night before I left. There was lots of crying. And then I slept through my flight home, and everything was a mess.
2. I had a white Christmas in the mountains.
3. I spent most of my break sleeping over at T's house, because I didn't want to sleep by myself.
4. For a big part of break, I didn't feel at home in California, but then I figured out that it's Stanford I don't feel at home in. I ate at Bistro, and Fraiche, and went out with Gabe for New Year's. I didn't see enough of Danya.
5. I have a single room here in Oxford.
6. The people in my program are amazing. Really, wonderful. I had forgotten how much fun it can be to live in a big house full of people who visit one another and go out together (so many clubs in Oxford have stripper poles!).
7. After 5 straight days of being black-out drunk, I got really sick. I'm still recovering.
8. I think I'm still in love with Mr D.
Hopefully, I'll get better at writing with regularity.
1. There was a fight. A screaming match with Mr D the night before I left. There was lots of crying. And then I slept through my flight home, and everything was a mess.
2. I had a white Christmas in the mountains.
3. I spent most of my break sleeping over at T's house, because I didn't want to sleep by myself.
4. For a big part of break, I didn't feel at home in California, but then I figured out that it's Stanford I don't feel at home in. I ate at Bistro, and Fraiche, and went out with Gabe for New Year's. I didn't see enough of Danya.
5. I have a single room here in Oxford.
6. The people in my program are amazing. Really, wonderful. I had forgotten how much fun it can be to live in a big house full of people who visit one another and go out together (so many clubs in Oxford have stripper poles!).
7. After 5 straight days of being black-out drunk, I got really sick. I'm still recovering.
8. I think I'm still in love with Mr D.
Hopefully, I'll get better at writing with regularity.
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