backyard crowing



i need to believe that there is something out there greater than me, that there is more to life, that i am not alone.

tonight i only want to go to a coffee shop without a green logo and sit, writing; i might. that's what j.k. rowling did before she became famous, and her beloved coffee shop suddenly fell into some customers. i wonder how many people look at her as a role model for writing. only God knows. i suppose in heaven we shall all find out...everything. i hope so, i want to know everything--that is my heaven--a wealth of truth, understanding, enthusiasm, love; a gigantic classroom where everyone understands everything, even the subjects that normally challenge them on earth. i would love to have an appreciation and grasp for all topics.

and now, for something completely different...

people often use the word 'enthusiastic' to describe how some act in the workplace. when i interviewed at AMC theaters, my interviewer asked, "On a scale of 1 to 10, what is your level of enthusiasm on-the-job?" i told him 9, but i ask you, what is enthusiasm? when i think of the word, i imagine jumping, screaming, cheering, laughing, bubbly people who rarely exist, and when they do, they annoy. would AMC movie theaters truly want enthusiasm if they knew my definition of the word?

perhaps. for now i will assume that enthusiasm has a positive connotation, and smile prettily.


"I'm hard to remember, but impossible to forget."
- Kirsten Dunst, Elizabethtown


here are a few things i wrote on paper about david from the last few days:


I'm so tired. I just want
to fall asleep silently in his warm arms.
he is downtown.
he is painting houses.
he is in a relationship.
he does not think of me.
he is smiling at the world,
like he does everyone.
he is happy,
sweating up a storm.
he is having the summer after his freshman year of college.
it was a banner year for him.
i don't want to let go.
david. i must be masochistic.


I hate this city because she is in it...
...I can bear this city because he is in it...


here i sit,
dwelling on a bunch of nothing;
nothing, that's what we had.
if nothing was required to be something,
that something would be acquaintanceship.
i miss not you, but the prospect of you
i miss the knowledge that your door is
mere feet away from mine.
i miss laying in the hallway, just hoping
you might walk by
i miss your face peeping through the study room door
i miss my eyes lighting up when people casually mention you;
no one here knows about you but me
i miss riding the elevator with you
i miss your zany jokes
i miss your curiosity
i miss your knowledge
i miss your experiments
i miss your caring
i miss your opennes
i miss your freedom
i miss your smile

surely i am a fool for all this...



what if i were to just call him up, right now, in the middle of everything and nothing?
what would he say?
would he be surprised?
would he think i liked him?
would he be scared of me?
would i feel better after having called him?
would i ask him out?
would i ask him to hang out platonically?
would he say yes?
would he be nervous?
if so, in a good or in a bad way?
am i not the pursuer kind of girl?
does it matter?
does he matter?


perhaps i shall simply drive to his house when i think he will be at home, and ask blatantly and straightforwardly. you can't shrug off the direct approach. maybe getting in his face is the way to do it.

i feel like i have nothing left to give.

- Friday, Jun. 09, 2006


lovesounds - futuresex


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