ypsilanti's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- car crash about this time seven days ago i was sitting on the couch, waiting for a call with directions to your house. since your house was a good six or seven hours away, i didn't want to guess, or just start driving and try to figure it out on the way there. for a little while there was a zombies record on the stereo, and i was pretty excited about it, but when the side was finished, all i could hear was the enormously loud ticks of the clock right above my head. i fell back asleep, my legs hanging over the side of the green couch that has followed me around for the past several years. i dreamed of driving to kentucky, and everything so clear and beautiful, almost summer like weather. then instantly there was so much snow, blowing and blustery, in a way that made it impossible to see the road.. all i could see was a tunnel coming up, completely full of snow, and me driving right into it, up the side of the mountain it was going under, and then backwards off the road. all the lights in the control panel of the car turned blue and i couldn't quite move to reach the ignition to turn off the car. it wasn't sad or upsetting, actually really peaceful and sweet. some sort of definition and process, spilling out across the highway in even pieces of order and demolition. i was woken up by the phone, you calling with proper directions to louisville, ky. when i was super sick a long time ago, when my kidneys were all fucked up and nobody knew what to tell me to do, i spent a lot of time feeling nervous, scared and shaky. one night i had this dream that i was in a car that was completely full of water, and it was driving into a lake. for some reason, i woke up from the dream immediately and was full of a sense of peace and assuredness that everything would be alright. it was strange that something so seemingly nervous and upsetting would make me feel as much at ease as i'd been for months, but it seemed to me like you couldn't really argue with a car full of water. the last thing i did before i woke up was lock the powerlocks on the driver side door. things happen because we do them. cars full of water drive into the ocean because we turn the keys and press the pedals and steer ourselves directly where we go. dozens of sad or poor or rich or silly or drunk or uptight or fashion conscious or completely clueless kids gather up in rented houses to dance or sing or play or fight or sit around bored or talk about the future or the past or sleep with each other or hold hands or secretly discuss important things in whispers as their eyes dart back and forth across the rooms only because that's what they do. at best, it all happens because it has to, or maybe because it should, and no one really even has to think twice about how the blood moves from their hearts in time with the electricity from their brains and makes them who they are, makes them love what they love and hate what they must, and do what they do. more than happening because it should or even because it could, it just all happens because it does. i live here, about a block from buster's food market, a really cool little ghetto grocery store about equidistant from ypsilanti and ann arbor. there are fences and side streets and sick, broken houses all covered in snow that doesn't seem to be going away any time to soon. my room is perfectly small, and has white lights and some unfortunate wallpaper, a disgusting border with a bunch of ducks that goes along the entire parameters of the room. i get stuck in this wintertime mess, where it's easy to feel really insufficient, unmotivated, ugly, talentless. easier to remember the best parts of times gone by that face up to the difficulties that are going on right now. somehow not familiar or at home enough to feel right or comfortable with much, but still so sure that everything is moving in the right direction. someone is born everyday, and there are celebrations of all this unspeakable, untouchable beauty. cars crash everyday, and people die, and someone falls in love and someone else is hurt by the weight of their love failing or changing. meanwhile, still dancing and still writing the smallest, almost invisible letters, in my head and in secret books, and here, for the whole digital world to see. sparks flying out of my mouth and falling from my hair down the front of my coat. and your smile and your eyes and the tips of your fingers, sticking out of your gloves, covering everything i can see in light, and in brilliant sparkling shards, so sharp and so soft at once. winter feels like a worn out photograph, and there is nothing missing and everything that is missing doesn't matter. and possibly this happens everyday, and just because it has to or just because it does? and my heart moves like a really beautiful car crash or some sort of new light falling from the heavens, just because it has to, but more likely because it has. make a wish. 11:42am - 1.29.01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||