devil town

"Music for cold nights under incomprehensible stars, for cups of coffee and cigarette smoke, for a long walk by the river where you might be alone or you might meet someone. It is music for encounters in shabby stairways, the music of lovemaking in a narrow bed, the tendernesses, the caress, the pull of strong arms and legs. Music for men and women thin as bones. Music for your invisibility. Music for your warms that ache from longing from wishing he might be standing at the top of the stairs waiting to take the bags and then lean over and kiss you and even his silly stubble scratching your cold face would be welcome and you only discover that you're crying when you try to find your keys-- Music for a day in the fall when you buy a new coat and think perhaps you will live here for the rest of your life, perhaps it will be possible, you have changed so much, would they recognize you? would you recognize your country? would you recognize yourself?"

My days are brimming over with plans and this city sleeps under a blanket of snow. I feel more and more like myself again. I am not writing an essay I should be. I'm wondering where the love goes when it's over. I'm re-reading words and wishing I hadn't and remembering forgotten safeness. I'm making plans. I'm excited for three days from now, and all the days and weeks following. I love Beach House. I'm willing the unknown. Finally.

I also love perfectly timed packages from best friends in faraway places. My wombmate knows me well, and knows just what will cheer me up. I can't wait for a faraway reunion out east. But in the meantime, her love sent express post will tie me over.

You come running in on platform shoes

This essay will be done in mere days, and after that all I want to do is wrap the prettiest presents and invite friends over for delicious flatbread sandwiches filled with roasted red pepper hummus and feta and sundried tomatoes and another ingredient I haven't quite figured out yet and I want to take long walks in the sun and I want to take more photos and drink more wine and clean this room and re-arrange furniture and play with Kirby and drink more tea and watch movies that remind me of Christmas (Beautiful Girls, Serendipity, While You Were Sleeping) and go ice skating and play in the snow and read the books I want to read and take up sewing and fashion myself a new wardrobe and bake endless cookies and dance to Teen Age Riot in a room lit with Christmas lights.

vogue

I'm starting to feel more and more like myself each day.

goodbye

I feel as though I've bid so many goodbyes in the last little while. Goodbye you and you and you, goodbye this memory or that, goodbye seasons, goodbye school, goodbye goodbye goodbye!

But in her case, I know it's not so much goodbye as it is farewell for now. We will meet again soon, and in the meantime there's always nocturnal chats to keep us busy and connected. Stay good, my dear.

Oh, and with all these goodbyes come new beginnings that make me so happy and hopeful for the days ahead. It's not just my part that's changing.

in that harbour of a room, you'll find your anchor soon

stuff

Who knew a bag of mere things could mean so much and still smell of so many memories.

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: