the era of good feelings;

window_light @ 2009-11-10T01:17:00

2009-11-10T06:20:37Z

quiet room hushes.

window_light @ 2009-11-08T01:51:00

2009-11-08T06:51:49Z

my little curious one; five acorns aligned on the shelf.

window_light @ 2009-11-04T16:00:00

2009-11-04T21:05:04Z

i have a problem: down to earth, they all had said to me, you must not have your head in the clouds; but lately and especially lately i am feeling frantic and restless. i am feeling OBSESSED OBSESSED OBSESSED with the non-human, or maybe something that surpasses human, that doesn't have certain things in mind but other things; i am feeling INSEPARABLE INSEPARABLE INSEPARABLE from the places that separate me from the everyday mundane world and if there are places that take me out of my place i become ecstatic and recently i feel like i must have this all the time ALL THE TIME ALL THE TIME.

window_light @ 2009-11-04T15:57:00

2009-11-04T20:59:39Z

we

are

children.

window_light @ 2009-11-01T18:02:00

2009-11-01T23:03:07Z

places that take us out of the places that we have come to understand as mundane. but the mundane is necessary and i have been thinking about places to come. where are the places that will be to come and what is there that i will remember. i have been thinking about the kind of land we will stand on and the visions and the senses and all details. and this is a case of dreaming i've been accustomed to lately. hum.

window_light @ 2009-09-30T22:23:00

2009-10-01T02:37:29Z

all that matters.

window_light @ 2009-01-04T16:11:00

2009-01-05T06:34:38Z

“oh but you see,” you said very plainly, “i want to be a catcher.”

and from your honesty i could see that you were being truthful and from you it passed on to me. i had never seen anyone want to be a catcher, the kind that lamented the revolutionless and watched the simple and happy and calm collapse with ease. and you said to me that day you wanted to be a catcher and i had never known anyone who wanted to be a catcher so badly and then so badly did i want to be a catcher; well because you see,

catchers are rare breed (CATCHERS ARE A QUICKLY DYING BREED)
catchers
catchers (rare, dying)

and from here on the stiff carpet everything is entering my ears. i can hear the sensitive collisions from the overlooked and i can hear They and the Everyone smashing bottles laughing and vulgarly pressing and overwhelming overbearing it feels to me. i’ve seen this before; someone is going to end up hurt; someone, someone is going to end up feeling alone and all the catchers can do is watch the assuring decline and stand there shaking and feeling sore with hopelessness (dying breed)

what can i;
what can i-

steady still earth and steady still me;
who closes her eyes and goes to sleep.

window_light @ 2009-01-04T15:49:00

2009-01-04T21:04:19Z

in the processes of changing my bedroom. daydreams of music boxes and accordion twirling tunes with dancing masked figures. different color than from before (august 11th's entry). look alright?

window_light @ 2008-12-27T23:25:00

2008-12-28T04:29:00Z

"i can't wait," you said. "we can paint that room everyday on our anniversary. and we can have a house with bicycle powered generator and we can have a tree growing through our house and we can hang hammocks and lanterns on the tree. and we can have a wrestling match every time before we sleep so we will make sure we're tired and then in the morning we can drink orange juice and give each other high fives. do you wanna keep talking until we fall asleep on our phones? it'll be like sleeping together."

and then you grew very tired and started mumbling incoherently over the phone as it became two in the morning. i only caught a few things you said as you talked in your sleepy state: do you wanna get married. can we be engaged. do you wanna get married in four or five years. oh i'm so in love with you. i wanna marry you. i miss you.

and then you fell asleep next to your open phone in the hotel room alone in that ugly city waiting for your flight the next day. i could hear you breathing over the static of quietness. and then i fell asleep in my suburban room quiet and still and our phones were still on for four hours before my battery died. and now you're very very far away. and i'm lovesick but i'm happy.

window_light @ 2008-12-24T18:54:00

2008-12-24T23:58:40Z

sleep habits upside down and reversed. i can't close my eyes at night; i don't see the morning and barely experience the daytime when waking at four. night time mind musing. voices talking and cold attic memories. trying to stay warm.

window_light @ 2008-12-22T17:55:00

2008-12-22T22:56:39Z

keep yourself busy.

window_light @ 2008-12-12T22:45:00

2008-12-13T03:48:38Z

I'M NOT GOING TO BE ANYTHING I KNOW IT I KNOW IT I KNOW IT SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME ALL TO WASTE I'M JUST GOING TO GO TO WASTE. WELL I'M RACKING MY BRAINS AND MY ANYTHING AND I SEE THIS DESCENT I'M HEADING TOWARDS. STUCK FAILURE GAMEOVER TO WASTE TO WASTE TO WASTE I GO. I'M COLD I GUESS I'LL WEAR HIS SOCKS NOW. TO WASTE TO WASTE TO WASTE I GO.

and i'm doubt i'm the only one but i know for sure i'm the most persistent consistent hopeless daydreamer with her head in the clouds with images of romantic whatnot hopes and balderdash ricocheting off the skull and around her inner cranium. i will sit in cold attics, unbathed for long periods of time, greasy haired, full of unshy mucus spitting, whistling habits, haircuts and cardigans, and dirty white shoes that both my parents disapprove of. everyone else will be cleanly groomed, with their posture wonderful, conversation the usual. i will always go back to turning pages within the fiction stories created by other daydreamers across the span of time and hope to catch onto that flow and become one of them or something. or something. i obsess over trash and scraps of pretty paper and glue so intently and cut so dedicatedly and so so so uselessly, that's what all this isn't it. it's all so useless. my passions are useless. so what will i do. i will just do useless things forever then. a failure. fear of failing. but i'm gonna be happy. everyone will have lovely spouses, cars, children. i'll be forever unmarried though undoubtedly in love, riding around on a bicycle or sailing a ship, and without any children or want of children. yet. and as everyone sits in comfy white clean armchairs with polished wooden floors and shiny chandeliers and multimillion dollar homes, i will be dwelling in a snug little cottage, i will be lingering in the dusty basements of home-created songs and and i will always venture into attics draped with christmas lights, in good company of singing voices. voices that come from the throats that share the same body as the hearts of people who have the same hopes and dreams as i do.

window_light @ 2008-11-26T15:30:00

2008-11-26T20:36:05Z

when this piano song comes through into my ears a little and simple tune beautiful calm and reassuring. and every time this happens, the start of the sparse and pretty of a few recognizable notes, notes that feel reasuring like home, we have the same image in our minds, the same flashback of a sunny afternoon. you are riding your bicycle and i'm on the handle bars with my feet hanging freely like the feeling that comes through me and through you. and where are we going. but it doesn't matter at all. it does matter at all, but my friend, if you're eager to know, please follow us, the smiles and laughing, follow the trail of calm, happy, and good feeling, and you will see what peace is. you will know what peace is. if you've been looking for it, you will know you have found it now.

window_light @ 2008-11-02T17:09:00

2008-11-02T22:17:30Z

there's a ghost in the attic. there's a figure hanging from the top by the window. and all but the boy who sleeps there are convinced of a haunting existence. oh yes it gets cold. oh yes no one's supposed to live in the splinter-floored and nail-ceilinged enviroment. but is there really a haungting. so lingers a boy, his puppet self, his scarecrow self, his ghost self. and "oh," he told me, "i saw the ghost once and he was in the shine of the window. i saw this and then crawled into bed and fell asleep. and when i awoke the ghost's wife was sleeping next to me and she kissed me and said she loved me and i loved her. and the ghost, he was happy."

and some time in the dark, i unconsciously heard someone say to me very quietly, "there's no one like you, except for me."

window_light @ 2008-11-02T04:45:00

2008-11-02T09:46:51Z

the most wonderful thing to do in life is to share.

window_light @ 2008-10-21T01:18:00

2008-10-21T05:18:57Z

(still you are in the back of my mind; i worry.)
i worry.

window_light @ 2008-10-16T20:40:00

2008-10-17T00:42:54Z

(woozy still with the spell of sleep in your half open eyes.) "i dreamed of you last night," you say. "we were sailing."

window_light @ 2008-10-08T01:24:00

2008-10-08T05:26:30Z

stark colored, cold floored. puppy is still around. have you ever heard a girl sigh. this is what it sounds like to hear a girl sigh and what it is like to hold her thoughts within yourself. we're all so confused and young and frail. so delicate. oh i have never beheld anything as delicate and frail as this. as this and everything and her simple sigh.

window_light @ 2008-10-06T14:24:00

2008-10-06T18:28:54Z

it doesn't matter if it doesn't make sense my darling my mind is stuck its so stuck and i know how it goes and i know how i muse and i don't know what will happen what goes on i just spill it out does it have to make sense just for memory write it down make it tangible oh so touchable it doesn't have to connect to other minds but now what happens just static it all out just place it all out please i hear the scratch of the graphite against the reformed trees i feel the mind blushing rushing pumping out everything

window_light @ 2008-09-29T01:32:00

2008-09-29T05:34:58Z

she walks around curiously at the mysterious old trinkets. ponders the history of the still wonders. and then thinks about other things and changes. hmm. yum.

window_light @ 2008-08-19T11:48:00

2008-08-19T15:49:53Z

love sleep deprivation! simple sleep.

window_light @ 2008-08-18T16:52:00

2008-08-18T20:59:42Z

for the second time we danced in the rain. you are my best friend; you are my lover. and everything will be okay.

window_light @ 2008-08-14T00:11:00

2008-08-15T04:12:37Z

welcome to the vanity fair. please enjoy your stay; here is a glass for your mouth and a glass for your face and you will tell yourself why hello darling i believe you are beautiful yes i think i am beautiful yes yes yes do you not agree why yes i will always agree. now decorate me for i please to be nothing less than a perfect doll. perfect to the last particle; every twine of hair every speck of skin. la la la more powder if you please.

window_light @ 2008-08-13T11:33:00

2008-08-13T15:34:27Z

the duchess conducted miracles past human belief.

window_light @ 2008-08-11T12:47:00

2008-08-11T16:56:52Z

i will miss my bedroom when i go away. it has been a holder of lonely days in the depths of winter; and a place for a daydreamer to sit and stare at the blank areas until something appears out of her mind. it has welcomed everyone that would make good company, had laughs and continual cryings of whatever woes and moments that came and went. lovers kissing, rooftop populated; cold stiff carpet. she sits there curiously examining the latest additions that sit on the shelf; old treasure chest and continually messes the place with paper bits and stains of ink pads and globs of glue. thinks of a song to play. thinks of a boy she loves who loves her back.