introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hiatus 3:32, under fire of aim messages - 9 March, 2001 so i made it home. i can honestly say that, even amongst snow and cold and grey and nothing to do, i'm glad to be in the north again. i don't envy the perma-yanks down there and the torture that is listening to unintelligent SOUNDING women (this is not to insult their intelligence, but instead, to denote that talking like that makes them sound rather unintellectual and more like delta burke on designing women)drawl in that oversweet accent of theirs. i mean no offense to my southern friends, of course; please do not misunderstand. rather, i mean that i've come to appreciate the quick talking fast paced sticatto of the northern delivery and find the southern one to be a bit too kind, a little bit too sweet (insomuch as to cause a toothache), and perhaps a little bit too damned slow for me to bother keeping up. hrm. lest i dig a deeper grave for myself, i suppose i should move on and leave it as it is. as i said: i made it home. the snow storm of the decade or whatever they were calling it turned out to be hype. Toss it up to the media and the grocery stores for getting my hopes for one last noreaster only to dash them miserably when i returned home to find a meager four inches. Damn you, weather channel, you've failed me! I should find better things to do on a Friday night, eh? Spring Break 2001, which had its meager beginnings in a small bar in Cranberry Township called Hartner's, ends again, in Cranberry Township to the sounds of Leonard Cohen on a rather sober note. I've not had a helping of S.R.F....but I've been bombarding my mind with Bertrand Russel. I can't complain, really. Its been a nice break from the small town that receives no radio signal (are you out there, can you hear this?)and knows no decent films.....props to T in Tennessee for reminding me exactly why I need to get out of Indiana, Pennsylvania soon. Let it be known that I'm drinking hard cider of the raspberry variety and therefore, cannot be held accountable for everything I say. Riiiiight. That having been said, lets get on to the poetry of happy hour, spring break 2001, friday, cranberry twp, pennsylvania. I am forever lame. :) ~HIATUS: for Daniel on Hormones~ you take these leaves of absense, you take these hiatus from everything you know i love about you and come back around full moon, hormones throbbing and begging to be appeased and i'm weak in that you still make my knees shake, even though you've got nothing really to say. sometimes, you just have nothing to say. you go on these extended silences, the type that only come with being so far away, the type that indicate that we've got a million miles of sharp wire between us... with your metal and your complete disregard for music that flows like miles davis, with your complete disregard for music that oozes erotic pangs of electricity, and your gifts of kisses that i can't feel... what am i supposed to do? oh, to hell with these games, for gods sake. mom said she liked game room best, but i'm sick of the boredome that comes with waiting for a playmate. i'm done waiting and sticking to solitaire. bitter? no. cold? you betcha. the north is cold, this continent is full of accents that are not yours; this country is full of people i've never met, but then, so is yours. i can't stop thinking that i'm guilty of some crime, of not sightseeing and testing this place of not knowing my own land before i go running off to yours... but its love, isn't it? its love, right? i don't want it today, thank you... i've got a fullmoonsunset to enjoy, reflecting on the snow that is less pure than its white might suggest... and i'm going out walking for awhile... to see how things look when the sun sets slowly; to see how things feel when i see with my own eyes again. take your black metal and your on occasion love and keep it to yourself today,sir... because sometimes, in the morning, i could go for a.... lets be tactful, now, okay? the trick to all of this is that you're never there in the morning. you're never there when i come home. you're never there when i need you and for once, i'm going to enjoy a slow sunset to the tunes of jazz that send me surging, melting, liquifying.... going out to see a full moon rising. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- .what came before. - .what happened next. a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017 |
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