put on your stockings baby cause the night's getting cold

Last night was warm and fuzzy and the night before was warm and fuzzy, too, and probably the night before as well and the music was loud and there were flashes of red floating across the walls and it was warm and I danced along with guilty pleasures and sang along with middle school memories and forgot for a moment and it was warm and I saw a couple embrace on a fleeting platform before the dark swallowed me and I was happy for them and parents crowded around windows with cameras clutched in mitts and a tree shone blue for a moment as I passed by and it was warm and I walked alone and it was dark and silent and I walked alone and I burnt my fingers three times and remembered things I wanted to tell but have since forgotten and I tied the biggest bow and I dressed myself in plaid and I fell asleep with a book in my hands and I forgot why I was there and I was warm.

(guilty) pleasures

I know as an English Lit grad student, I should not openly admit to loving Twilight but the cat's out of the bag. Aside from it's horrendous writing and very very VERY problematic elements, the series has captured my attention for the past week (including staying up to 5am one night/morning to see if Bella and Edward would make it). And maybe this is exactly why I love it so. The fantastical love story that does not and could not ever resemble anything close to reality even trumps the Buffy/Angel/Spike triangle. I am easily swept up into a romance of excessive love, albeit shrouded with vampires and werewolves. Plus it doesn't hurt that I picture Robert Pattinson's face emitting from the pages.

Oh, and I love this, too. But no apologies needed in this case:

lately

Because sometimes I've used up all my words.

these days

Time heals all, right? And in time I will forget:

1. The exact number of steps (count 'em, twelve) needed to deliver me from my station to the steps of his station (upupup to a waiting streetcar and then downdowndown one familiar street and acrossacrossacross a waiting intersection of blurred greens and reds and honks and upupup an expectant flight of stairs into waiting arms).

2. The feel of a white cotton hug before drifting to sleep.

3. Born to Run in polyphonic ring tone form.

4. Tastes and smells and touches and everything in between.

But in the meantime, I have teen romance novels and one cat who spoons me in his sleep. And time, so much time, passing me this very moment.

Say Yes

I think it's becoming that time of year where I listen to Red on repeat and my writing becomes increasingly cryptic and summer feels like a dream I can't even really remember anymore and I want to get out of this city, this provice, this country and feel something, anything, again.

i always cry at endings

BROKEN

B
R
O
K
E
N

BROK EN

NEKORB

B R O K E N

1. B
2. R
3. O
   
4. K
   
5. E
   
6. N
   

BRO
KEN

Anyway you put it, it still sucks.

baby it's cold outside

I woke up today to a blanket of snow outside and a big hole inside. For the slightest of seconds you can forget, but then everything is numb again once the sleep fades. You look in the mirror and don't recognize that person. And you know things will be better, everyone keeps telling you so, but this morning it just doesn't seem so.

pretty baby

"The sky was the colour of honey. 'I love you,' he said. On the snow was a bouquet of roses. He put his arms around me. I climbed into his young chest occupying the place of his heart."

It's much too cold and dark ouside already, and perhaps one of those sun lamps Martha was talking about will help, but in the meantime I have a Peanuts Christmas to look forward to, and the smell of pine needles, and much planned baking, and fondue parties, and home made wine to consume, and lovely passages like this to stumble upon.

ruby tuesday

It's becoming that time of year where you find yourself sitting alone in your room at 5pm, and you are shaking and you don't know if its because the heat isn't working quite properly yet or if it isn't that simple, if you can't really find stillness with one phone call, and every light in your room is on, and you know that is wasteful but you don't care because you need some light to offset the blackness greeting you outside your window.