HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Wednesday, March 19, 2008 jerk it's foggy outside. tonight, i will sleep in a land of mist. i ran till i hurt today. received chit's text (i love you too, sweet.) tomorrow is the spring equinox, did you know? i want to wake up early to usher in the spring equinox. it marks the date the sun sets later and later each day. it means winter is over. april is the cruelest month, the earth awakens and heals, but one senses this only happens through much pain. like the paradox of turning 21, the realisation that i'm entering into the spring of my life, but this means that a lot too, has had come to pass. i could have stayed in the city, i suppose. it would have been crazy though. i'd have probably have been made to drink till i left my mind and heart--probably my wallet and handphone and charger--there. no, unlikely. i would be nursing expensive and pretentious steamers in the village over a book, running by the hudson till my lungs expired, fancy candlelit dinners. i don't know, the point is i came home. do i sense in myself, a certain pang? if i stayed in manhattan, i would have started conversations i wouldn't have known how to end. i talked to leon today, to the background of horrible communist music, what the fuck, leon, i said, how weird is it talking to you with that stuff on. i picture you driving over george washington bridge into the city for work, singing to freddie king, tapping at your wheel, you and your blues. duct tape to keep your side mirror from disintegrating. the sunlight was blinding. we were running late. rushed out of the house and shared a banana in the car. jerk, i said. jerk, he scowled back. posted by dawn # 4:14 PM Comments: Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] tired spring and summer green dragon day lovely arcana imperii traveling memories beautiful sunset mister sun beautiful [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

jerk

it's foggy outside. tonight, i will sleep in a land of mist. i ran till i hurt today. received chit's text (i love you too, sweet.) tomorrow is the spring equinox, did you know? i want to wake up early to usher in the spring equinox. it marks the date the sun sets later and later each day. it means winter is over. april is the cruelest month, the earth awakens and heals, but one senses this only happens through much pain. like the paradox of turning 21, the realisation that i'm entering into the spring of my life, but this means that a lot too, has had come to pass.
i could have stayed in the city, i suppose. it would have been crazy though. i'd have probably have been made to drink till i left my mind and heart--probably my wallet and handphone and charger--there. no, unlikely. i would be nursing expensive and pretentious steamers in the village over a book, running by the hudson till my lungs expired, fancy candlelit dinners. i don't know, the point is i came home. do i sense in myself, a certain pang? if i stayed in manhattan, i would have started conversations i wouldn't have known how to end. i talked to leon today, to the background of horrible communist music, what the fuck, leon, i said, how weird is it talking to you with that stuff on.
i picture you driving over george washington bridge into the city for work, singing to freddie king, tapping at your wheel, you and your blues. duct tape to keep your side mirror from disintegrating. the sunlight was blinding. we were running late. rushed out of the house and shared a banana in the car. jerk, i said. jerk, he scowled back.

posted by dawn # 4:14 PM

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