Friday, August 17, 2007

it evades me sometimes. i hope, almost willing it on, that it will show up, but not now. not right now.

it teases me, makes me think that i could, nay, should have it soon

but it seems now further than before.

when it's not here now, for this long, i'm in pain. not just the mental pain that comes with not having it, but real, physical pain. open or closed, my eyes hurt, piercing the tops of the lids. my head feels swollen, ready to burst out of my skull. i feel sluggish, slow, drained. the bitter irony.

i just want to fall asleep

Monday, August 13, 2007


joe sat quietly on the bus, tapping his finger on the seat in front, not hard, or irritating, just tapping, gently, tapping.

The sky was moving quickly now, the clouds rolling like water across the horizon, crashing into the edge of the hills and beyond. Joe stopped tapping, aware of the sky, and the clouds. Ominous, they felt, looming, closer.

But was it something else Joe? Were there really clouds in the sky, or was it something different, was it your conscience, Joe? What is creeping over you? That sense of fear, of dread?

Of guilt?

Joe resumed his tapping on the seat, as he slumped back into the chair, and glazed out of the window into the bright sun.

Thursday, August 9, 2007

faster Jack, faster
a sea of dark was drawing down the hillsides
faster Jack, faster
the noise was building behind, above, below
faster Jack, faster
contempt was growing all around
faster Jack, faster
and finally, the rain hit the ground

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

he lay awake, unable to move, unable to see.

"dam, not again"...
john had blacked out some point the night before, and was just now coming to. slowly, very slowly, he sat up in his bed, not really a bed though, but a sorry excuse for a matress on the floor. empty cans and a bag of food lay strewn among the dirty clothes. his eyes were coming back now, the blood moving around his torn body.

in the kitchen, still bleary eyed, he stumbeled around in the 'fridge, looking for some caffine. it's too hot for coffee. a half open can of pepsi gave him his drug of the hour.

crossing the bridge always hurts in the moring, but today, it was like therapy, massaging the legs as they span around and around. John arched his back as he rode up the last little rise off the bridge, looping around and coasting back under towards soho, well, my soho at least.

he was first in, and it was still early. the door was never locked anyway. only crackheads and poor people live here, and they rob the rich across the river.

Sunday, August 5, 2007

it's raining again.

when i was 19, i was sitting in the subway in Oakland, and it was raining. i was in the window booth, and it was about 3pm. the grey skies were letting out a steady stream of water. it had been raining all day. young girls were scampering through the puddles, and guys walked, shoulders hunched, caught off guard by the fall storm, getting soaked.

i think that was the day that i really fell in love with the rain. the light cast a flat tone, and as the water came down it just reminded me of england, of Cambridge.

i've been here (bean :)) for over sixteen years. more than half my adult life, but england, and Cambridge, will always be home.

the streetlight twinkles in the puddles, the orange glow dancing off the trees.
an old man is pedaling, slowly home, as he has for years.
he'll be home soon, so a warm house. he'll hoist his bicycle up the three front steps, and awkwardly open the front door, pushing it in before him, and the leaning it in the hallway. home.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

good morning

It’s early. Maybe 6:20 am. I’m lying awake, as the sun is poking through the only curtain that is up in the room. The blind in the big window does a poor job of blocking sunlight, so I’ve been waking up with the sun lately.

The air is cool in the house, and Casey is sleeping soundly. The dog picks his head up and then curls back into a ball at the end of the bed. He seems to be favoring her side of the bed lately, and I’m not one to complain about that.

I must have dozed off, as the alarm buzzes at 7. not really feeling the need to be in bed anymore, I shuffle out of the room and pad over to the shower. Our bathroom is ugly, but I love it. It’s warmed by the morning sun, and I let the water run a little cooler. I didn’t bother to turn the light on in the bathroom, and the sun reflecting off the blue walls is casting a nice cool light.

I get partly dressed, and sneak back on the bed. Maybe I wanted a little more sleep. Casey is warm to the touch and she is now curled up with the dog, who took my place while I was showering. I feel so calm, so at peace, it’s eerie. The contrast of the cool breeze and her warm body is, well, comfortable.

I pad downstairs, the yellow paint on the walls makes the hallway seem even brighter. The dog follows behind and into the kitchen with me. I let him out on the porch, and slowly wanders around, eventually into the yard.

He was still puttering around while I was making breakfast, so I decide to sit outside and he joins me back up on the porch. I could sit here forever, I think.