return

i want to drink coffee every night between the hours of 10 and 12. a powerful craving hits and, most of the time, if i can at all manage to get away with it, i totally succumb. tonight, is no different. tonight is only unusual in that i actually got off work before 11pm and have the semblance of a free evening to spend as i choose. i had sushi with anne and then curled up in bed with my coffee and computer. 

i am in one of those phases of life again where Time itself seems like a fiction. the Past falls away from me and feels impossible. i look back at certain events and circumstances in disbelief. it seems incredibly unreal. all the lives i've lived before this one suddenly seem so foreign to me. this girl that i am today...  haven't i always been her?  maybe this girl was there behind the window pane all along simply waiting for me to gain enough strength to steady my heart and look her in the eyes.  i got back on the good road of Honesty and instantly retrieved a true sense of self.

i cut my hair. 6 inches off the length but it still falls to the middle of my back. i have fringe again. "change your hair, change your life" becca tells me and she's been absolutely right. i have an entirely new wardrobe. i have a storage unit that houses the old. and the only books i kept with me are german grammar books, the next volume of anais nin's diary i need to read, gina abelkop's poetry, and my great big book of francesca woodman's photographs. all my drawings, save for a few small skull portraits, are in storage too. i kept the sweaters with me though. they are my armor and are always near.  the most recent sweater, the blue one, came about as a result of pure nesseccity.  i needed to work and blue yarn was all i had.  it is hanging on the wall here in my white room, a flag of hope.

the world changed some months ago and this little electric land of mine went silent. i lived without a stable internet connection for just about 4 months. unheard of these days. there were times i'd go 8 straight days without being able to so much as check my email. but, as i fell out of step with the modernity of the rest of the world, i fell in step with an older aspect of myself. i began to believe in myself in an entire new way. or, perhaps, a way i once had but forgot how to summon forth. all the writing i did was private and shitty. all the writing, the feel of it, has been fantastic.

but the tap of the keys is a familiar song. i lean in to it. i fall in to its rhythm and don't question its rightness. i missed this place and the connections it can establish. i missed the dialouge with writers and artists. i missed the way we speak to each other here- a way that is so much more romantic than how we'd speak to each other's faces. i love the drama of it. the urgency.  i even love the emoticons.

i especially love the emoticons. :)


at 3am when i can't sleep i will regret this cup of coffee.