"Girl from California who likes to drink."
Perhaps that is a minimalist title, but I am satisfied nonetheless.
"Did you see the two sunroofs? Two!" -- gunsafety... who was nice enough to pick me up (and to grant me quoting privileges) so we could go get coffee, earlier. We spoke of SimRonan and getting it in and Shakespearean tragedy and Sophie and it was lovely. We both were a bit ... bated, I suppose... because we were awaiting a phone call from Sophie, but when that call didn't come, we bought some cloves, he dropped me off at home, and we have made a pact that the three of us need to hang out before Thursday (Sophie, this is a requirement, buddy!).
Hope upon hope equals tick upon tick and while I have a craving I am trying, for once, to be patient and not pushy. Most of the time, it is inappropriate to come exclusively when called upon... and truly I was granted the privilege of being able to appear when I please. Still, I am a bundle of nerves. I am biting my lip and my nerves are biting their nails but I know what I want. I want to be perfectly distant, and undeniably present, all in one. Is this possible?
As much as there are negative things in my life at the moment, I still cannot believe how lucky I am. How amazed I am at the bizarre turns of events that enable things like friends I am rarely able to see picking me up at airports, my camera and all of its contents making it through airport x-rays unscathed. Friends who allow me to understand that there ain't no love in the heart of the city. You should open another because I want you to. The drunk-dialers, and the sassy ones-- the ones who are able to act like an 8-year-old boy with me and overuse the word "dick" just because it seems like a good idea. It is all about being able to finish sentences-- having people finishing yours for you: not being peeved and not being surprised every time the words, I was just going to say that!! are uttered. The months I find that end with "ember" are the ones full of the most fire.
I feel as though somehow I have been let out of my own mind and been left in a dark wood, my sanity my own to find. My hair is healthy, smells good, and is down. I used to poke fun at those who chose to live the 'hippie' life-style all bare-foot, bohemian, and carefree; took offense when someone asked me [accused me of] being bohemian, and most notably, a recent observation stated that I was a 'goddamned hippie'. If this is so I may just kick my shoes off forever and hide my money under the soap, write fanciful plays with extravagant musical numbers and become obsessed with my own visions of utopia. Can this be? A glint of happiness in the jaded California mind? It is so and will be so for as long as there are people willing to stoke the feeble fire in my heart and remind me that California is not everywhere and that there are people in the world who are above it. I don't hate California by any means... it is just now that my view has shifted. The proverbial 'they' say that home is where the heart is, and if this is so... what does that mean? Does that mean that home resides in whatever geographical location that people who have touched your heart habitate in? I have not been lucky enough to find such keen and divine beauty in nature that I believe my heart lies with it... but with people-- oh yes. Deeply affected like a flower among many, whose roots are nurtured by a neighbouring flower of a different species. This, to me, will always be what hope and life encompass. It's the beat and the heat and the heart and the notes that will make you feel like moving in your chair, the elevator, the supermarket. Music. The songs you hear that you may not know-- lifting your heart to another dimension and reminding you of things better left forgotten, however, too sweet not to savour with every muscle in your being. I didn't even have to blow-dry my hair tonight to know that kind of love. I wondered why certain things aren't there that should have been and I realise... some birds are too beautiful to be caged.
I wrote a song recently that mainly revolved around a friend of mine, Lauren... and I realised that when I tried to sing it, I couldn't because I got choked up. Why? Nostalgia? Perhaps. Maybe it was because I always thought she was so much more than me, and the fact that she even acknowledged I existed, let alone never let me forget how important our summer together was rendered me so overcome that I could not eke out the lyrics regardless of how much I felt they needed to be let out.
Even though it is probably not wise, I want to share a bit of them so that, one day, if anyone can identify with them, they can point back to this and say, "We are not the only ones."
And though you're hurting
We'll try to take the pain away
We'll do all that we can
In hopes we can convince you to stay
We think you're talented
Stay here with us instead
You should let us
You should let us
We will be strong for you
The way you used to do
Before you fell.
Can you remember when
You saved all of your friends?
You were there for
You were there for
So let us settle debts
And let us hold your head
Sometimes I believe that the moon sings to the Earth, and I am sucker enough to think that sometimes the stars dictate what would otherwise be completely unimaginable. I am silly enough to have faith in things like fate, and am grateful for what seems... completely random and yet completely beautiful. That part of me wants to be a girly-girl and blame the stars for things that make me swoon and make me look to the Heavens and thank all of the stars I have ever wished on for someone so alike as me. Yet, I am gripped by the sensibility that this is stupid... and I want to persist.
There is too much beauty in this ugly world to let skepticism and cynicism take hold of what really matters and turn it to an object of doubt. I love and I love and I love.
A woman in the moon is singing to the Earth. La la la, la la la la la la.