hmm. city or rural. the difficulty becomes land. while a city garden can be lush and wonderful, in the end it is a rectangle where the kids like fishies will bang into the sides of the tank eventually. however they and i and we have the advantage of lots of types of food and arts to feed us, and more than one option of transportation.

muy muy importante.

city schools. blech.
but ugly rural houses. blech.

and...would country living bore the hell out of us? certainly! we would have to find or make fun in the gardens and the woods, or bust. what of the winter? when even the free library is miles away.... and always drive drive drive everywhere, every day most likely. ew.

then naturally there is the option of leaving buffalo altogether, worried threadbare like the corner of an old afghan by now, should we stay or should we go...... february is a bitch of a month, in't it.

and i sort of like the nub under that left pinky, and that i have to pay extra attention to the fact that my 'a' is being typed properly. 'a's are everywhere, a lot. heh heh would always have to be heh heh, and never ha ha without it. everyone's laugh would be much more sarcastic, and the vaguely german spelling of 'lugh' to boot. srcstic lughing germns.

enough of that. i will get it fixed, then i will not remember what it was like, the feel under my pinky of this tiny green dot that resembles an upturned breast. oh, all the things we don't see that govern our lives so. how quickly our focus shifts to survive a simple 24.

enough of that as well, miss wax fantastic. i like southern yankee's 'i despise' list. it is so much more honest to do this in january than resolution-ing. i despise getting older, when there is no one to tell you you're doing just fine anymore. when you have to convince yourself you are, and of many other things. i despise thinking of it as 'getting older,' which only makes me feel it more precisely.

on my languorous drive to work, i began to think about some well spent times of yore, and to sort of feel as though they were colors of a sort, vibrant or shady, and then almost taking on a texture as well, like tattered or shiny or, oh, waffle weave, say. it makes me think i should make something out of fabric, but then also i got to thinking of a (particularly female) preoccupation with redecorating rooms, and almost wondered if my 'colors of my youth' meanderings tie into that. that if the 'colors' and 'textures' aren't happening to you (or if you aren't making them happen) as experience, you will then try to impose it physically (change of scenery/brighten a room/liven things up are commonly used phrases for the phenomenon) upon your world.

but when you are done, then what?

you might just need to rework your sentence so it does not possess one ' '.

well, in comparison at least.

3 year disintegration, during which either 1) families and/or individuals dissolve, the effervescence of which bubbles constantly against my skin, up and around my breathing apparati, so that i can only get sips of air in the constant onslaught. or 2) there is no dissolution, simply an ever present parental/familial lack unnoticed due to a heretofore preoccupation with self, i.e. immaturity; which made life seem as grand as most dub their childhood. was the childhood grand, or simply the perception of it? perhaps this is only my adult self learning to breathe.

Mother: who will i give my love to?

Father: i give it to God, who will solve everything.

Mother: did you say something?

Father: who are you? well, how bout i'll come over, but not to find out. (next day) i'm sick. i can't come over. (repeat)

Mother: will anyone love me, ever again?

Father: if there's no pain, praise God. if there's pain, praise God anyway. You can read the book of Job about that.

Mother: i spent much more than i meant to this weekend. (repeat)

Grandmother: let's see.....knight, bishop, pawn, qu--oh, okay, queen (phew).....now where did that other knight get off to?

uncle: when do we eat?

stepmother: i'm not fine, and i want everyone to know it.

stepfather: i'm fine, and i want no one to know it.



me:

attainable or not, i'd like to keep this list in mind as my mind reels lately with an uncharacteristic lust after objects. and SO, here are the things my heart really wants, not necessarily in priority:

1. learn chinese, go to china for a long long time. many 'jong's.

2. a house that wraps around my self like a blankie

3. 3 nights consecutively of uninterrupted sleep

4. three boobs. hahahaha..... that might help with #3.

5. go swimming more



ok, so only one of those is materialistic, which is good but a little bit cheating since i have been wanting all kinds of ridiculous nonsensical things i don't need lately LIKE: purple coneflower, antiques, a sea salt and peppercorn grinder, a wool coat, and that downy spray you spritz on your clothes that magically erases all the wrinkles. ALSO a $3700 couch, $1800 "wine cubby" wall (what the hell is a "wine cubby" and why do i want it?), exotic lotions, a $78 shirt, an $88 sweater, makeup brushes, dill weed, fabric, a swimsuit (uh, summer's done, son), and naturally, 85,000 pairs of shoes. weeeeelllll, i kind of actually DO need the wool coat, and maybe 2 out of the 85,000 pairs. there. that is a little more honest. it actually feels a lot better to admit all the dumb things i want than to put it all nicey nicey. hey. and i am a material girl.

or perhaps they are weird sisters of a sort. it would seem they are opposites but think how if you haven't spoken to your friend in soooo long the 'i'm sorry i've been really busy' line is the first one you use. it'd be much more honest, and would probably help patch the friendship better, if we just said 'i'm sorry, i've been really lonely.' 'i'm sorry, i've been focusing elsewhere, and our relationship has suffered for it.'

friends are so important, that is a thing i must remember. in my life, people and things have come before (and i *have* loved them all) and the ones i've hung on to are simply the ones that have hung on to ME. plenty of things have changed and then some things just stay the same. friends are hard to make and even harder to keep and i am rambling but i write this as a note to myself for the future, from this the past: if someday you wake and ever should think 'it is only when we're young that we shake each other's hearts ', then you must slap yourself and do all in your power to find that again and make it happen.


"and no kinds of love are better than others (la dee ta ta taaa...)" -lou reed, velvet underground