if | 14.14 km
bah! bloody acid ridden day. joni’s “if” on repeat all day long, and the rim shots were pushing me randomly through the afternoon. feeling restless and, hm, discontent. HA! like *that’s* news! but here IS news:
PRINCESS SUPERSTAR HAS GIVEN BIRTH TO A BABY BOY!
then the earth is yours
and everything that’s in it.
i’ve made a decision. i’ve made this decision already one day ago. if you should ever visit my virtual home again i will send you a message that says: “the next time you come here it means: ‘hey phil, wanna come over?’” so i’ve been sitting in front of the pc all day long with trembling heart, waiting. waiting. waiting.
nothing but the will that’s telling you
to hold on. hold on. fuck.
the small movie theater around the corner has put “the big lebowski” back on the bill, so alice and i are going to see it sunday night, which should be fun. the café is slowly filling with people. when i arrived an hour ago it was almost completely empty and jodie was so bored out of her pants that she kept throwing beer-mats at me for like five minutes, trying to provoke me into a fist-fight. i didn’t move, of course. i sat still in nonviolent ghandi defiance, staring at the screen of the ibook where i was trying to compress a 260 pages thesis into threeandahalfpages while beer-mat after beer-mat was ricocheting off my shoulder, leg, head.
i’ve started to feel alone again when i met you. that is true. before it was a rather unspecific feeling of misery, but right now the bears seem to have little human faces that look exactly like yours : your lips and your sparkling eyes and your benevolent smile when they claw at me. i so want you. fuck. i…s.o…w.a.n.t…y.o.u.! and the insecurity about how you’re feeling is not helping to steady me, either. i wish i could take a look into your heart and see how big the space is that i have managed to carve out there. pea size or pumpkin? i want a size that exceeds your heart even, a topological impossibility.
and just now the girl with the number called and we’ll meet next tuesday. why? why am i doing this? when i entered the bakery this morning i took a careful look at the cakes and pies on display while the cute shop assistant was waiting for my order, wiping her hands on the apron. finally i said: “hm, i really felt like having something sweet, but having seen your sweet smile i can’t think of anything that could be more delicious” and turned around and left. no, of course i didn’t do this.
how old was dillard when she wrote “pilgrim”? 23? 24? fuck. why is my happiness dependent on making something that is beautiful? everything else seems to be so pointless. except for you. if you can fill the journey of a minute with sixty seconds worth of wonder and delight then the earth is yours and everything that’s in it but more than that i know you’ll be alright you’ll be alright. what a fucking crappy concept that you cannot run faster than yourself.
