I wish that I was...

When I was about 5 years old, I was in love (as in love as it is possible for a 5 year old to be...especially since it was pretty one-sided) with Rick Springfield. The song "Jesse's Girl" was very popular at that time, and I would rock furiously on my rocking horse while listening to it on my little blue and white record player, only stopping long enough to place the needle back at the beginning of the 45' that I so cherished.

I would imagine what it was like to be Jesse's girl. In my head, she would be one of the girls with white teeth and shiny, billowing hair like the ones in the shampoo commercials. Her laugh came easily, and the sunlight glinted off of her natural highlights. I would rock on my horse and toss my hair casually the way I imagined Jesse's girl might, knowing that she was coveted and revered and envied.

I need some of that shampoo. I also seem to have had a strange fascination with girls in shampoo commercials most of my life. See here and here.

Laced with quiet (and not so quiet)...

It was pointed out to me tonight that this blog is like the innermost workings of my brain without context. Perhaps.

Okay, yes.

But at this moment I need to pretend no one ever reads this and just...write. And, uh, listen to music under a fog-covered sky. And drink this Sierra Nevada. And wonder what the fuck that weird noise is. (Seriously. Scratching?)

"You ring your bell and smile at me; I drink from your well and fall down."

I find that I keep thinking about the girls who are in shampoo commercials. Girls who are secure and smiling and carefree. Their long tresses glisten as they toss their hair, knowing fantastic things are in store for them because their hair looks so good that night. There's not a trace of shyness, doubt, melancholy, hesitation, fear, or insecurity in them. And you are led to believe that good things DO happen to them.

I need to get some of that fucking shampoo.

I've mentioned this countless times, but here I go again...

I'm trying to collect myself and figure out where to go and what to do next. I know exactly what I'm doing until June 30, 2008, and beyond that it's...blank. Occasionally I am thrilled with that openness. Other times I am overwhelmed by that emptiness.

(It all depends on how I spin it. Kind of like "freedom fighters" vs. "terrorists.")

"Take it with the love that's given, take it with a pinch of salt..."

A friend told me a story of his parents recently that touched my heart deeply. His mom confided to him that on the weekends, she and his father lay in bed in the mornings and hold each other for hours because they know they won't always be able to do that. Grabbing it while they can, I guess.

"Your mom would stick a fork right into daddy's shoulder......and dad would dream of all the different ways to die...each one a little more than he would dare to trrrryyyyy...."

(Incidentally, my mom DID drink until she was no longer speaking and my (step)dad DID throw the garbage all across the floor.)

"Like an animal in your care...but give it time, you will outlive me..."

There's a blog I read frequently by a guy whom I just stumbled upon. I think I was doing a search for a song and he mentioned it in his blog and I found it that way. It's called "Everything is wrong with me" and he's says something like he's "28, bipolar, and hungry." In it he recounts his attempts to find a serious girlfriend, massive amounts of masturbation in an attempt to "inseminate his apartment," weird mental hang-ups, etc. It's mostly pretty amusing.

But I wonder: Is this what I'll be? Blogging about my thoughts and experiences and ridiculousness forever? I fantasize about a day when I will have no use for the blog, because my life is full enough. I imagine myself in that hypothetical future position thinking, "Remember those days when I used to blog all the time? Yeah, I think I wrote about a bunch of shit I was thinking and stuff. That was fun. But this is better."

"We drift in and out...sing into my mouth..."

"The images stuck in your head
People you've been before that you don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will..."

Año

winter stifled shivering on the curb phone in hand panic resolution hesitation it all fell together this is not my home yet I saw her red coat out the bus window and it was one of the most comforting sights of my life long long phone conversations a dead end that I kept turning down a false alarm spring green pants to match the green walls new people a loss of a dear one documenting writing angry Polish people why does he write summer better and better disbelief the ability to be surprised alarm an act of resistance a moment of being shattered goodbyes all around no one to walk with I hate when it becomes important it’s the little things that are getting under my skin it feels too ridiculous to talk about this is when the humming feeling began in the base of my throat wild ideas fucking do it relief terror happiness terror disbelief because it’s for other people this? this? whatever this is that I am real pleasure fall dreams dreams dreams more questions than answers all this relief mental preparation and crushing disappointment you would not believe the acceptance at that moment I could barely express my gratitude oh jesus fuck support and checking in waiting okay near miss fairer than expected not an issue joy amazing water never before sleek and soft almost like a shampoo commercial to memorize for the long days I lost a bit of my dignity and it seemed the only way to recover quiet catharsis I love the way repeatedly pessimism optimism it is unfortunate that I can’t control the movie projector in my mind boring meetings and suddenly it goes back there again lingering hands lips tongue the best one ever your voice changes when you talk about it

(It's not so hard now.)