Friday, January 7, 2011


"This distance from myself creates a longing so deep that no love, no joy can fill it. It is a disconnect that drives a fissure down my center, two sides divided both longing for and loathing the other...."

The apartment is warm today and it's size makes it feel like one of Jason's big woolly grandma knit sweaters though i sit at the laptop with it's cold glow starring back at me in his boxer shorts rolled at the waist just enough to expose my hip bone, tank top bra less(of course)and over sized double knit socks. this place, this apartment, has become both my sanctuary and my prison. this town just a larger version of what our simple hand me down filled apartment has come to represent. I can look out my window and see the town crazies wandering up and down main street mumbling nothings to themselves, watch the small town holiday parade and the mommies push there babies along cracked concrete on sunny days with ice cream cones in hand. I can see the world of small town USA from here and yet i never feel apart of that place always just the girl up in the window this clear pane of glass separating me from them the way i have always been in my head. today i need to write something for the local paper about one of the town's historical buildings that has fallen empty and full of ghosts from days more prosperous. I hate writing that kind of stuff but it helps pay the bills and allows me to sit up here writing what is really important what really matters to me. to write something that someone can read and cry with, or laugh with and just know somewhere deep inside how that feels or felt. to see the colors of my words with vivid brush strokes or feel the soft butterfly kisses on there skin with each and every key stroke. that is what really matters not empty buildings dying, coughing and wheezing on main street lost to developers and condos that sit ready to take there place. but today that is what i need to write about. Jason is still asleep in the other room, soundly in his dreamless slumber. His late nights always result in lost days to sleep and more quiet for me. It snowed yesterday and left the town blanketed in heavy wet snow. not the soft kind that looks like a Christmas card on my mantle but the wet and dirty kind that gets mixed in with mud and car exhaust and everything black, turning it all into a slushy brown mixture. In the snow yesterday we went up to our roof. we call it "our roof" because no on else goes up there, no one else sees the beauty of the black topped roof like we do, so it is ours. we went up there yesterday in the snow and threw snowballs at the pedestrians on the street below, hiding and giggling like children when one of us got a suit in the back of the head. we cleared off our chairs that we set out up there over the summer months and laid in looking at the stars through the chill of the autumn, even when the leaves rained down on us with cold winds from the north. we cleared the snow from our chairs and laid heavy towels down to soak up the damp left behind from the snow. Jason built a fire in the old oil drum he stole off the abandoned gas station lot, it was our fire pit our source of warmth when we where not keeping one another warm.

1 comment:

  1. long time no contact, how goes the story writing, looks like this piece is progressing slowly, but nicely... trent