the silly things
early morning today:
mila sits on my doorway, friendly and attentive.
lily sits on my armchair, weary but as always, curious.
they look into each other's eyes, only a couple of meters apart.
mila is black and white, a blend of butcher shop mutt, setter, and freckles.
lily is so solidly spotted that it can be safely said that she consists of three solid spots of white, black, and tawny.
they are so very different; but right now they both sit so still, like on a classic stamp. and they look and look at each other.
I look at them both and wonder what goes through whatever passes for their minds. they have been sitting still for minutes now, and neither of them are the kind to stand still; something is obviously going on in here, and I'd
really like to understand it.
yesterday night was a bloop, to be honest. everyone says I should go out more, but nearly every time we do so it ends up being the same, and at some point of the party I find myself in the stairwell, in the balcony, or maybe my elbows on the bar and looking at the scene at my back through the mirrors, wondering what I'm doing there when I could be home reading. maybe I should consider it a step in the right direction, that I'm not having these moments of pondering in the bathroom anymore, so let's look at the bright side, YAY. it's good that I ponder about my poor abandoned books, and not about how oh god I'll never do it again I swear but MAKE IT STOP NOW or LET ME DIE soon.
I once told this guy about it, one of marianne's forever yours, and now everytime we meet at a party he asks me on updates:
"what's up, are you wishing you were home reading about the killer cellphone zombies?"
"they weren't zombies; they were republicans. anyway, I'm done with that one, but I'm reading a really good one about chess, and I left off at a rather engaging twist of the plot."
"so what, are you calling for a taxi soon?"
"not quite, but I'm almost getting there."
what I still don't know is if he's figured out that I really really mean it.
top 3 lines of what a way to waste a saturday night
1. folsom prison blues -- johnny cash (I hung my head and cried)
2. only -- nin (less concerned about fitting into the world; your world, that is)
mila sits on my doorway, friendly and attentive.
lily sits on my armchair, weary but as always, curious.
they look into each other's eyes, only a couple of meters apart.
mila is black and white, a blend of butcher shop mutt, setter, and freckles.
lily is so solidly spotted that it can be safely said that she consists of three solid spots of white, black, and tawny.
they are so very different; but right now they both sit so still, like on a classic stamp. and they look and look at each other.
I look at them both and wonder what goes through whatever passes for their minds. they have been sitting still for minutes now, and neither of them are the kind to stand still; something is obviously going on in here, and I'd
really like to understand it.
yesterday night was a bloop, to be honest. everyone says I should go out more, but nearly every time we do so it ends up being the same, and at some point of the party I find myself in the stairwell, in the balcony, or maybe my elbows on the bar and looking at the scene at my back through the mirrors, wondering what I'm doing there when I could be home reading. maybe I should consider it a step in the right direction, that I'm not having these moments of pondering in the bathroom anymore, so let's look at the bright side, YAY. it's good that I ponder about my poor abandoned books, and not about how oh god I'll never do it again I swear but MAKE IT STOP NOW or LET ME DIE soon.
I once told this guy about it, one of marianne's forever yours, and now everytime we meet at a party he asks me on updates:
"what's up, are you wishing you were home reading about the killer cellphone zombies?"
"they weren't zombies; they were republicans. anyway, I'm done with that one, but I'm reading a really good one about chess, and I left off at a rather engaging twist of the plot."
"so what, are you calling for a taxi soon?"
"not quite, but I'm almost getting there."
what I still don't know is if he's figured out that I really really mean it.
top 3 lines of what a way to waste a saturday night
1. folsom prison blues -- johnny cash (I hung my head and cried)
2. only -- nin (less concerned about fitting into the world; your world, that is)
3. rock n roll suicide -- bowie at the beeb (you're too old to lose it, too young to choose it)
posted by gaby san at
2/26/2006 01:45:00 PM
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