My weekend in photobooth snaps (perhaps irrelevant as it already Wednesday - this week is flying) below. I was a little girl. It is an incomplete representation - you do not see an immense of time spent is pools, a head of unwashed hair, et a lot of lovely people (more people need to exist in my photobooth records). I was a little girl. I burrowed into bed. Movies, moleskin, water, water plus ice tea crystals, the best patterned pillows, Beth's t shirts, naked spidery limbs, crossed/uncrossed/extended. Are we shy, are we setting new ground, are we different? Look close, your face is changing, it's only aging from all those tired tears. Look here, the fight is starting. As we near the people are parting, Oh my, my tired soul. Are we high when we're watching downtown?(<PA lyrics)
A very long time ago, as I sat on the top of a picnic table outside the pub, I quietly declared that I was going home. To go to bed. Only one person heard my quiet declaration, and with a cigarette dangling, a grin and a glint in his eye, he challenged. Alone? I lifted my head and answered. Yes. Alone. Always alone. I sleep alone. That's a shame. The good humor of the line balanced my reaction to the undeniable fact that it was one. I answered again, It is no shame. Where is the shame in claiming my bed as my own, as no one else's? I had gotten louder now, slightly. Show me the shame in this, I quietly demanded. He could not.
I made meals just for me - it was strange. I grocery shopped only for myself, for my desired items, what did I want to eat this weekend - it was so strange. I felt single for the first time in recent memory. It was so strange. Here in life, we live. Here in life, we are living. Here in life, we live. The last two captures? Moleskine. And what was missing from this weekend - not in thought, but in physical presence. I am here, you are are here, we are here.
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