There was this girl in line...
It's quickly approaching a year since I embarked to London, England and the more tourist parts of Europe. This day also happens to be the one made me think birthdays are rather morbid affairs. We ate and said congrats to the old man. He had made it through another year that contained moments in which he probably wished he hadn't and feared he wouldn't. How did this become such a bright occasion and one so central to one's personal calendar. I guess it could be interpreted as a "fuck you" to the cold and seemingly distant hand of death. Maybe I'm missing the point all together.
On this same day, I noticed I talk to people less and less. My usually rabid addiction to instant messaging has turned into cursory log-ins to see if a certain few individuals are on. They usually aren't or are just about to leave. So my days contain grad school disillusionment and meandering curiosity amongst the annals of the world wide web. This observation lead to another, one that I would have thought would be more shocking when it occurred. My life is rather unamazing. There seems to be a great deal of "grin and bear" attitudes around me. The end of 2005 seems to be wane of the cycles of many lives I know and love...is there a meaning behind all this...a Doogie Howser-ish revelation that I'm missing? Insight aside, these thoughts and the fact that I'm listening to the most effective and strikingly used song in cinema (in my opinion)led my thoughts to her. On the impending anniversary of my travels abroad, she finally came back to me...the girl from California.
Recently I've sifted through the events of my life with detective's eyes. I've been looking for small and seemingly insignificant clues that turn into head-smackingly obvious suggestions of where I should steer my life next. One of these clues led me to London and another overheard while eating breakfast one morning in Italy led me to that line. The subjective analysis of the events of that trip to Italy could have led me to do and think a thousand things. Become a writer, travel the world, paint the images trapped in your head, don't ever suffer the slings and arrows of the ineffective and disappointed etc... but no. A book, a glimpse of faux-attractive underwear, and an awkward admission of sexuality to a proud and affluent mother from Northern California became a siren's song that fades out and back in on my father's birthday.
She was reading Heidegger for her class on discourse, she had a body you could clean a fish with, and she slipped up in saying she liked taking it from behind from her Persian boyfriend. Her apolloian brother and I turned an expensive shade of scarlet and the mother just chuckled, amused by the fact that her daughter is a woman now. Led Zeppelin rang in my ears, I was going to California with an aching in my heart. And that's just what I intend on doing. West, where the promise of gold, kinky academics, and general good fortune has lured so many and now me. I'm not even sure if that's where the compass will end up pointing, it may be any mixture of West and the other principle directions. I do know that by "California" I mean the land laying over the horizon, the land where promise lays and the next chapter unfolds. Contemplating the perceived bleakness of my father's birthday and my friends' labors, its high time to feel amazing again. I wonder if Spring will contain the same daily wonder it held last year. Will it come in the promise of a new beginning? Will it come in the shapely form of a mad lover, whipping me into action? Will it come in the form of a piece of art that will change my life? To quote a journal entry dated February 15th, 2005, "I stand in a great many places being simply a pile of pitch and kindling waiting simply for a spark." I'm a hero waiting for a call and hoping I haven't already missed it. Hell I'd even settle for a sexually satisfying affair. It's been a long year.
On this same day, I noticed I talk to people less and less. My usually rabid addiction to instant messaging has turned into cursory log-ins to see if a certain few individuals are on. They usually aren't or are just about to leave. So my days contain grad school disillusionment and meandering curiosity amongst the annals of the world wide web. This observation lead to another, one that I would have thought would be more shocking when it occurred. My life is rather unamazing. There seems to be a great deal of "grin and bear" attitudes around me. The end of 2005 seems to be wane of the cycles of many lives I know and love...is there a meaning behind all this...a Doogie Howser-ish revelation that I'm missing? Insight aside, these thoughts and the fact that I'm listening to the most effective and strikingly used song in cinema (in my opinion)led my thoughts to her. On the impending anniversary of my travels abroad, she finally came back to me...the girl from California.
Recently I've sifted through the events of my life with detective's eyes. I've been looking for small and seemingly insignificant clues that turn into head-smackingly obvious suggestions of where I should steer my life next. One of these clues led me to London and another overheard while eating breakfast one morning in Italy led me to that line. The subjective analysis of the events of that trip to Italy could have led me to do and think a thousand things. Become a writer, travel the world, paint the images trapped in your head, don't ever suffer the slings and arrows of the ineffective and disappointed etc... but no. A book, a glimpse of faux-attractive underwear, and an awkward admission of sexuality to a proud and affluent mother from Northern California became a siren's song that fades out and back in on my father's birthday.
She was reading Heidegger for her class on discourse, she had a body you could clean a fish with, and she slipped up in saying she liked taking it from behind from her Persian boyfriend. Her apolloian brother and I turned an expensive shade of scarlet and the mother just chuckled, amused by the fact that her daughter is a woman now. Led Zeppelin rang in my ears, I was going to California with an aching in my heart. And that's just what I intend on doing. West, where the promise of gold, kinky academics, and general good fortune has lured so many and now me. I'm not even sure if that's where the compass will end up pointing, it may be any mixture of West and the other principle directions. I do know that by "California" I mean the land laying over the horizon, the land where promise lays and the next chapter unfolds. Contemplating the perceived bleakness of my father's birthday and my friends' labors, its high time to feel amazing again. I wonder if Spring will contain the same daily wonder it held last year. Will it come in the promise of a new beginning? Will it come in the shapely form of a mad lover, whipping me into action? Will it come in the form of a piece of art that will change my life? To quote a journal entry dated February 15th, 2005, "I stand in a great many places being simply a pile of pitch and kindling waiting simply for a spark." I'm a hero waiting for a call and hoping I haven't already missed it. Hell I'd even settle for a sexually satisfying affair. It's been a long year.
posted by P.M. Richets at 2:14 AM
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