| 5/26/2007 11:34:00 PM |
[ be beatific, babe. nothing's shocking. ]
In one of those reading marathons I sometimes pull, I just finished my Murakami - Sputnik Sweetheart. Every time I read Murakami I think, "This is exactly how I feel right now. This is the perfect book for where I am. This is what I needed to be told. This is what I was longing to be hear. This is the music playing deep down inside me. This is hearts beating and wings fluttering. This is it!" And it's all I can do to write a bit to hang on to that feeling before it floats away.
Everyone I know is going on living their lives. It's like I was holding a bunch of kites, and one by one they're slipping out of my hands. Spinning off with ribbons, while I stand here, hair blown back, watching things drift - to places I can't even imagine.
I guess I've sorta been holding my cards close lately. Part of me wants to write down everything that's happened. With girls and falling aparts and parents dying and cities and music and mountains and waves crashing and quakes and quakes some more. And the other part of me wants to become one of those deaf-mutes, Salinger style.
I really don't know who I'm writing for here... it might be awhile before I feel like writing again. So... best of luck, world. Don't wait up! Consider me defunct. |
| 1 comments |
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| # posted by :
11/12/2008 12:56 AM |
| Keep up the good work. |
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Moosi
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