summer

off of work tonight.
possibly going to see shiny toy guns followed by silversun pickups at summerfest ce soir.
j’espere que je pourrais aller – je les aime bien. 

updates

funny moods lately.

it seems like everyone is out of town, which has its ups and its downs.  bored in a pleasant way.

looking forward to the river this weekend, alone in the woods.

i want to start writing for real again.

i’m waiting for my phone to ring but i don’t know who i’m waiting for a call from.

cutting edge

it’s hard when
you’re the only one
person who
i could say,
“let’s go to the beach”
even at 2 am
and you would
just tilt your chin down
and smile like that,
just that – your face
so long and lean
and
we would go
the wind there, the waves
up against the shoreline
crashing against
me, and your eyes
so dark
those few minutes where
nothing meant anything
and nothing had to
i could have just stood there
looking at
you
is there anything more beautiful?
and i find myself
praying
please, let there be another
who cuts me
less and loves
me more.

far far away land

oh, God, i miss the lake.

i miss my sunsets.

so who’s the girl wearing my dress?

two months from today

unreal reality

i wish you were really real
really you
i would like you here to talk to, just to
hear your voice
and the way the street lights would light up
your hands
i know it’s selfish and 
uncharacteristically illogical
but the thing of it is,
i am you are me we together
sometimes it seems
and even without making sense i know
you are one of those people
who make time go away
i don’t even need to know your face
to know you

Hotel Song

i have dreams of orca whales and owls
but i wake up in fear
you will never be my
you will never be my dear
will never be my dear, dear friend

(Regina Spektor)

if i had words

if i had words to make a day for you,
i’d sing you a morning – golden and new.
i would make this day last for all time,
give you a night deep in moon shine.

on a day to day basis things seem to be surviving and i’m reviving a sense of myself that wasn’t around or buried underground and i’m looking forward to what? something. maybe Boston in the fall, the wind on the Charles.  maybe getting drunk at a party next week.  maybe getting away.  maybe coming home, tired to the bone.

late nights and street lights and old fights time bites 

and i’m asking the same question again: who are you? and if you are you, then who does that make me?

there is

i realized today this is the only photograph i’ve ever taken of you.

that was a good night.

thanks for the coffee.

also, this makes me happy: