Soundtrack: Marie Antoinette/Last Kiss*
I lay on the wooden floor, propped up on elbows with legs outstretched behind, comfortable in sweat pants and a huge turquoise tee shirt. An ancient bandana and a yellow pencil hold the hair out of my face. As I type on my silver apple, I am surrounded by yards of canvas, colored pencils, paint brushes, paper, and glaze-trying to get ahead of the game-yet all my mind can focus on is that nagging question: What am I doing; And who am I to think the way I do sometimes? On the run all the time, even when I'm silently still...Not too sure what I'm trying to prove (or disprove?). When does sarcasm go to far? And just how do I get my hands on that quality they call...Sweet? My little tongue/attitude/unfortunate ability to convince people that I am trite (origin: mid 16th Cen.:from Latin, tritus: past participle of terere "to rub.") is not working out for me so well. I'm sorry's only go so far, especially when one is not sure what they are to be sorry for. Maybe not knowing makes the effort of speaking those two words void. Maybe I was born a warm hearted reptile or a cold hearted mammal? No...Possibly a warm hearted mammal with great reptile characteristics. Fools rush in...
The rubbish above makes about as much sense to me as it does to you, I am sure. Thoughts are so jumbled right now...And completely irrelevant; but, the marble is not looking like marble and the water color sketch just welcomed a rip right through the skirt and I am lost for solutions. What to do? Listening for any piece of advice that (now) Joss Stone might be willing to share, but right now she's just asking, "Don't chu wanna ride, baby." I am about to take her up on that, jump in the passenger seat and go. GO! Do not look back and do not ask for directions-just drive. Please. I need out. Let's hit the west coast and dip down to a beach somewhere...Walk for a bit...Keep driving. Windows down, hair tangled...Breath. I can finally breath. (our jaunt is totally unromantic just for the record. eww.)
Could it be that exhaustion has caught up with me again? I try to hide from the inconvenience of restlessness, but nonetheless, I choose to deal. I think the canvas is done for tonight-the pillow upon my bed calls for me to come lay my heavy head on it....zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
I lay on the wooden floor, propped up on elbows with legs outstretched behind, comfortable in sweat pants and a huge turquoise tee shirt. An ancient bandana and a yellow pencil hold the hair out of my face. As I type on my silver apple, I am surrounded by yards of canvas, colored pencils, paint brushes, paper, and glaze-trying to get ahead of the game-yet all my mind can focus on is that nagging question: What am I doing; And who am I to think the way I do sometimes? On the run all the time, even when I'm silently still...Not too sure what I'm trying to prove (or disprove?). When does sarcasm go to far? And just how do I get my hands on that quality they call...Sweet? My little tongue/attitude/unfortunate ability to convince people that I am trite (origin: mid 16th Cen.:from Latin, tritus: past participle of terere "to rub.") is not working out for me so well. I'm sorry's only go so far, especially when one is not sure what they are to be sorry for. Maybe not knowing makes the effort of speaking those two words void. Maybe I was born a warm hearted reptile or a cold hearted mammal? No...Possibly a warm hearted mammal with great reptile characteristics. Fools rush in...
The rubbish above makes about as much sense to me as it does to you, I am sure. Thoughts are so jumbled right now...And completely irrelevant; but, the marble is not looking like marble and the water color sketch just welcomed a rip right through the skirt and I am lost for solutions. What to do? Listening for any piece of advice that (now) Joss Stone might be willing to share, but right now she's just asking, "Don't chu wanna ride, baby." I am about to take her up on that, jump in the passenger seat and go. GO! Do not look back and do not ask for directions-just drive. Please. I need out. Let's hit the west coast and dip down to a beach somewhere...Walk for a bit...Keep driving. Windows down, hair tangled...Breath. I can finally breath. (our jaunt is totally unromantic just for the record. eww.)
Could it be that exhaustion has caught up with me again? I try to hide from the inconvenience of restlessness, but nonetheless, I choose to deal. I think the canvas is done for tonight-the pillow upon my bed calls for me to come lay my heavy head on it....zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
posted by bargame at 9:37 PM
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