Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Etching smiles into tombstones
Exerpts from personal journal entries/ramblings
Oct. 1, 2009
I sat on a bench in the Jardin du Luxembourg to watch leaves fall. An old, crippled man shuffled towards the end of the gravel path and a mother helped her new baby with his first steps
A joy of life renewed
Do you paddle past an eddy,
Pull through a lull? Why not
Pull in the paddles, spin,
Stretch your arms wide
And touch the edges of this moment?
Oct. 26, 2009
Surging through my wrists
Grinding behind my eyes
Clenching between my teeth
Carving out the insides
Of my mouth
But my heart is beating
Nov. 1, 2009
Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait
Lesson #12: Don’t waste your life waiting
Nov. 6, 2009
Tell me, baby
Are you still on the stoop
Watching the windows close?
I bought a train ticket to Marseille. I had no plans to take anyone with me, or to meet anyone there. I traveled to southern France alone to breath in the salty air of the sea and taste the colors of the sunset in blissful solitude. The strange place that welcomed me sat beside me by the harbor without asking any questions.
I made a friend with a gentleman named Paul, a native New Zealander, but who grew up in London. His accent was spectacular. His words lingered between us and I grabbed them with my fingertips. We laughed about how dirty Marseille was as we followed the boats at the dock.
“Did you know this is one of the oldest cities in France?” He offered.
“How exactly do you determine the age of a city?” I asked.
He shrugged. I didn’t press him. We continued walking.
Later we drank coffee and listened to rap and played poker.
Nov. 6-8, 2009
...And now, writing this, I’m on a train to Barcelona with an empty seat next to mine and a bag of trailmix and applesauce at my shoeless feet. The window reveals boundless miles of compacted red rooftops punctuating rolling, quiet hills. A disgruntled infant kicks my backrest, screaming for his mother. I’ve showed my passport more times than I should have, and I don’t entirely know how to get where I am going when I arrive. But I watched the seaside pass, finding nothing wrong with this moment.
Maybe we could forget everything and
You could come and steal me
And we could freeze time
Though you’re far away from me now
There’s something you should know:
My hands have not forgotten yours