Jessie and I have been discussing the odd things we wrote when we were younger. I’ve been finding old journals and papers as I unpack. She’s telling me of a journal she kept when she was a depressed teenager. In return I’ve unearthed my carefully hand written copy of a Philip Larkin poem I used to have pinned to my wall. However, I’ve had a bit of a realization. It’s a bit odd that I used to have it up, that I wrote it out at all, because I wasn’t an angsty sixteen when I agonized over the loops and curls of the letters, no. It’s from when I first learned cursive. It’s from grade two.
Beyond all this, the wish to be alone:
However the sky grows dark with invitation-cards
However we follow the printed directions of sex
However the family is photographed under the flagstaff-
Beyond all this, the wish to be alone.
Tyler‘s asked me to join him at Sanctuary tonight, the vancouver goth night. I’m considering it, though there are other options I’m weighing. There’s a sort of odd balance at work; do I lazily wander out close to home to dance hard for hours or do I force my extra mile and drag myself up Main St. to sit quietly for some brilliant poetry? It’s all about the when of the effort, of tossing the body beauty around in gravity. Katie is proving a brilliant distraction conversation and perhaps winning the war for me. (You should all go look at her pretty pictures). If she keeps me on-line long enough, Tyler will simply arrive at my door.