Double D

I have that familiar feeling from when I was a kid and I'd get a new diary with a chintzy little lock and the first entry would say something along the lines of,

"I promise to write in you everyday!"

My next entry would be,

"I can't believe I haven't written in you for TWO WEEKS! I promise to write in you everyday from here on out!"

Next,

"I'm now 37 with two kids, diary, and I know I've said it before, but I PROMISE to write in you everyday!"

I think that struggle with my lame little diary has actually turned out to be a metaphor for my life. I'm full of the best intentions, but completely false promises.

pfft.

It's as though she were singing to me. Squares and rectangles cover the ground.

I've lost it all, I think to myself. In a space so small how do you lose it all? I'm not sure what I love anymore, just that one day it's supposed to make sense.

I wait for that day. I hold flowers for that day. Someone told me he loved me that day.

Feb 16

Rosebuds on the garbage can. Piano player and wood. Homemade biscuits, beer and conversation.

You'd be 35 soon. I'm breathing in the world thinking of you. I'm getting drunk thinking of you. I'm depressed thinking of you.

My life moves on. I try to take it in. The rosebud garbage cans, piano players, and wood.

Looking ahead

I'm looking for familiarity, she said.

Likewise, he said. Where are you looking?

All the wrong places... she pauses. The past, mainly.

January 8th

We're still on the train. We've been looking out the windows these days. Watching the grey world fly by.

How odd a thing to get together to mourn the loss of someone you still can't believe is gone. I just kept thinking, someone's missing.