introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- secretary 2:28 a.m.-tres late. - twenty seventh of march, 2001--before bed work was....work. i got out late. i'm really beat. i wanted to share this. i've been talkin' at T all night. my heart gets a lot bit lighter every time. never has anyone danced so perfectly well to billie holiday from a thousand miles away. i'm glad to be free of the thoughts holding me back from letting my mind fully connect with his. things sorted themselves out today. still no word from Tim. I'm getting bummed. I miss the company of my newest good friend. anyway, wrote this at work. its been a good monday to follow up a cleansing weekend. and to top it off, corey wantsta sell me the diplomat. what more could a girl ask for in a car? yeah, pimp wagon. YUM is the only mantra. things sift out. they always do. be well, my tenderhearts. *hugs* ~secretary~ i'm filing things away, tying up loose ends, ending things that only serve as extra baggage and random tokens: things that won't fit into the boxes that i've been dragging down from the attic. i'm filing things away: the things that have been sitting idle, leaving rings and shapes in the dust on the shelf, the things that i stumble over in the dark, the things that keep me awake at night. and i would say that i'm a quick study, yes i would say that i learned a lot from the electronic boy, all dreams and a budget, a map, and a plan- and there's something about him that melted away a lot of the fog, yes, there's something lighthouse about him. i was filing things away when i was sitting on a picnic bench on a balcony in the snow, and the clouds were rolling by so fast and sure, i was breathing in the cold and breathing in the smoke of bargain cigarettes, watching the sunset so slow to contrast the lolling rolling cumulonimbus... and pondering over how long it had been since i felt some peace in my heart; how much time i've spent trying to get things i don't even want or need into some sad semblence of order. i was sitting on a picnic bench on a balcony in the late march snow, watching sunset on a small town, the orange burning light reflecting cleanly off of windowpanes and the bronzed dome over the town hall; i was silently, helplessly watching over a town that will not only feed me, clothe me, and give me a job but that will smother-suffocate me and make me claustrophobic; a town that will either remind me of my dreams and push me out into the world or trap me up in the comfort of "just getting by". i'm filing things away, throwing folders of nonsense thoughts to the winds of my memory, winds that are blowing restlessly and driving wild. let them blow away the in the spring winds, trapping up in the mud puddles of my doubts and the bare branches of my hopes that have gone all red at the tips again, ready to burst and bud with plans and hopes and dreams; a season full of tomorrows. yes, let the air be filled with pages and my heart grow full of strength, for winter has been too cold and too long and sunset fades too quickly. i will take the few things that i have left, the small remainders of dreams that still have meaning and file them away to their proper places to be addressed at their proper time. perhaps he was right to want to know what his place in my life has become since i'm shaking out the dust of the girl i was yesterday, making room for new circuits, making ready for the days to come- as i shook his page from my story, and watched it float and fade on the driving snowy wind, my heart grew lighter like it did when the other luggages was lost and i knew i'd made the right choice as i went on all afternoon, sorting out my thoughts, sorting out my hopes, making plans to make them all real somehow. i was filing things away, i was finally finding time for filing my thoughts. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- .what came before. - .what happened next. a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017 |
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