city night

my stars
are the tiny glimmering windows that speckle the cityscape.
my stars
are the flickers of my candle,
the twinkle of a reflection in my window.
my stars
are the sparkle of a tear on your cheek.
my stars
are the light in your smile and the sonnet of your laugh.

please don't darken my night sky...
shine for me

llama madness

real life

I love being with my family because I forget that my real life exists. I forget that I really live here, that I have a job here, that anything in the world is real and pertains to my life. I just get all wrapped up in the comfort and completeness of the cocoon of my family and have peace of mind... until they go and real life sneaks back in and stares me down til I succumb to its necessity. Why is it necessary? Maybe I'll go start a hippie commune in Humboldt- live like a gnome among the giants and grow fresh produce to sell, make sweet necklaces to sell and live off the land. Peace out, my friends.

"It's not fair. You guys find joy in everything."

thoughts

All of yesterday's big wet snowflakes stuck to the world like shaving cream. It's really pretty.



Es tan corto el amor y tan largo el olvido.

Nunca olvidaré.






(word to my bro Pablo Neruda)

snow and words

The snow is coming down thick in big, beautiful flakes. It's so magical. I wish I had a window so I could sit and watch it. I could watch it for hours.

******

Tiny heart, stuck inside yourself
When will you open up for me?
I love you so, wanna meet you again
Before one of us must go.

Your lips touched every hand but mine.
In the shadows you slept fine
When will you get back to me so we can rest?

Tiny heart, you're not by yourself.
When will you recognize the beat
Of my own heart, making your blood flow
So that your chest can rise and fall?

Your lips touched every hand but mine.
In the shadows you slept fine.
When will you get back to me so we can rest?

You will never know what you have done to me.
You will never know losing your love for me.
You will never know a single day alone.

Tiny heart, stuck inside yourself
When will you open up?

Your lips touched every hand but mine.
In the shadows you slept fine.
When will you get back to me so we can rest?

When you choose me, I'm waiting for you.
Always waiting.


Aunque parezca extraño, te quiero devorar.




(shoutout to Flyleaf and Bebe for their lyrics)

cloud 9

Sleep is most delicious when it is forbidden. Like this morning: The last couple days I have somehow gotten ready faster than usual and have this extra time staring at me. Why go to work early if my boss isn't worried about it and I'd rather cut my lunch short anyway since I just eat alone when I could steal a few more minutes lying back down on my bed? It's only about 10 exra minutes, but it feels so nice. This morning I drifted off and woke with a start when I realized I didn't know if I had just slept 10 minutes or half and hour. I only slept about 8 minutes longer than I planned, so it was fine, but it was a sad moment to leave my bed like that. Other delicious sleep moments are when I am reading and my eyes and brain get so heavy that they just come to a peaceful rest as I doze off. My bed always feels the most inviting when my alarm goes off in the morning- that's always just when I've found the most comfortable position that I've experienced in my entire life or when the summer sunshine is giving the room a warm glow that is comforting like an old blanket or right when the dream was getting interesting... Sleep never felt so good as when you can't have it.

blogging

I still think blogging is weird. Who really wants to know what's in the recesses of my mind? You think you do, but you don't. And for the few I would be ok with exploring that far, cyberspace does not really attract me as the medium to do it. So I suppose the challenge for me then is to find things to write about that are interesting or have to do with me (since the blog title is the attic of my mind) but not excessively personal...

Here's what you get today:
Sunday was the big nasty noreaster. Church was cancelled and we holed up like polar bears. It was such a lovely day! I got to lounge around (which I never get to do) talking with my Erin and listening to the wind howl and the ice hit the roof. Coulda done without the snowblower across the street or the shovels scraping, but there was respite from that briefly. I could stay in that moment forever, even with the snowblower. Becky had built us a snowman on Friday with Thursday's snow, but by Sunday afternoon his cute little face was strewn on the ground in front of him with one eye far across the patio and eventually his head was blown off. poor guy.