second thoughts.

May 26, 2012

cold streets and bright lights, faces and people laughing. short skirts and heels although I’m seeing the running trend of boots cropping up here and there. my friends taking photos, stretched out along Cuba like a string labelled community tied around one of my ankles, a chain-gang of relationships, willing labourers in conversation along the streets. cake and amaretto and riesling and feijoa crumble. the city like a benison, the bright city like the body electric, the singing underneath the concrete, thrilling at being a part of something bigger and more moving and more chaotic and frenzied and alive than you are by yourself alone. I love cities. they say home. they say life. alive. alive like an electricity mains, buzzing like a cog in an electrified machine (only I’ve never seen cities as machines, small thousandthousand cogs whirring in place, each completely replaceable and indistinct. no. cities are as much things that grow as the trees outside, and each part is as frenetically beautiful as corruption and decay. as life, which is corruption and decay, and beautiful with it). more photos. roads to cross. running for buses. the bus home and then the driver, friendly and thorough as people ask for directions, wrapped in a grey jumper with the orange of her hi-vis vest sticking out the bottom. I smile when I say goodnight. there’s a man sitting on an upturned recycling crate in the dark, eating Macdonalds.

home is warm and quiet and the smell of food lingers. I pull my boots off and listen to Lauridsen’s contre qui, rose.

.

thinking on the way back of baking cookies and leaving them, wrapped and with a small note, in my neighbours’ letterboxes. can’t quite figure out how to word the notes. I make too many excuses and apologies. foresee every difficulty. maybe they don’t like cookies.

.

I think I need at least two social events every week. I had something like three things on in quick succession and the week was somehow better than usual. coincidence? dubious.

I’m always better with people. so much more is possible when you are not alone. you can become- different. better. or worse, depending on the people you’re with, but you change. it’s easier to be static and buried in the slow sand of yourself when you’re alone.

 

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