Friday, July 17, 2009

A Formerly Paper Post, Once Lost, Now Found.

I want to run away, to Australia;
to Quebec;
to a small bookshop nestled in the Left Bank.
Sleep huddled in a corner, surrounded by dusty words.
Walk along cobbled streets while the dusk mingles with smoke.
Or run in the opposite direction.
Away from everything I have built my life upon. Hung my mind around. Like so many sticks, draped over with a many-holed canvas.
To somewhere heavily populated, where no one knows my name, or sees my face.
Or somewhere remote.

Run to Nowhere.
Where the words I know, have never existed.
To sit with people, while they make sounds, and I make sounds and that's all they are.
And then maybe I could do it.
Say "Hey! Listen, I'm not okay"
"So many mornings I wake, and lie here. And there's nothing to get up for, so I turn and will myself back to sleep. Until noon. Until dark. Until the next morning rolls around. But, I never make it that far. So I sit alone in the night."
"Some days I convince myself that life is good. But other days I know that society is flawed. And people are flawed and I am flawed. And we're all going to let each other down in the end"

And they would maybe laugh and nod, and talk to each other.
"Her hair is a strange colour"
"Listen to the sounds she makes.."
"Poor child, she is all wrong. But it cannot be helped"
And their words would tumble around me, violently. Like water through a storm drain, like falling wooden blocks.
Shattering noise, the trees in the forest.
And then, they would teach me to make sago.

I like the Left Bank idea best. If Mouse will come with me?
Something to prevent me from falling into a life of paper dreams, and words that stop at my throat. Hands that do not move, except to brush away the flies.


  1. When I see the picture, I see two girls on the bed, one dark and one fair, and the dark one is tucking the fair ones hair behind her ear and the fair one is reading Peter Pan to a kitten on the floor.

    Are you allowed to have kittens in a bookshop? They should be a pre requisite. Purring library cats.

    My not so bad wax puddle has become a very bad wax puddle, but I don't mind so much. I think you make me feel more strongly than I am supposed to feel things. So sometimes I imagine if I wasn't medicated and it scares me a little.

    But mostly I miss you more than anyone I've actually met. One day I will be brave enough to run away. And when I am, I'm coming straight to you.

  2. This post deserves more comments.

    And also a little that I don't have a new post to comment on..

  3. (PS: In the night, in the lonely times, just remember that I am dreaming about you.)

  4. Aaron called me anony mouse. He is not allowed to say that, so I am pretending he does not exist.

  5. I dont like to read your blog, i don't feel entitled, it is the most honest and beautiful part of you, don't let go of yourself.

  6. Dear Anonymous.
    I am not good at not knowing, I wonder and wonder until I'm dizzy. I wonder who you are?
    You sound like you know

    Dear Known Mouse. Love you, always & of course.

  7. Oooooh My God. I've gone into English Major mode..I'm analysing this comment..
    I just caught myself thinking "Hmmm do I recognise the punctuation? Or the choice of words? Is this characteristic of anyone I know?!"
    I am banning myself from this comment section.
    And going to bed, it's 6am.
    You are probably not someone I know..right?
    *internal voice* "GO TO BED"