La cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point.

I want something real.

Something between the two of us

only we can feel. 

I wish I had the guts to tell him how great I think he is...

Its all in the tea leaves

Dear Daewoo,
Not knowing where you ran off to, not knowing if I am near or far makes me miss you even more than the time we were at polar opposites of the globe. Its the not knowing that distracts me the most. I'm always writing scenarios of new adventures you could be on in my notebooks, illustrating them with shaking sketches on my morning commute. But it's the memories of you and I in these streets that follow me home on lonely walks from the train on the coldest of nights, when I'm the only person for miles on Fulton. I keep seeing you in the faces of strangers in passing cars, head down in a book, or laughing with a pretty girl, or falling asleep on an unknown shoulder... I'm projecting you all around this town, in the memories I'm making on my own. It's your ghost who practices French with me on the third floor of the Bauhaus museum I'm living in with the Swiss couple. We practice American words "the French way" when we speak with our friends, like "coleur, and patronage, and cinema," they seem to be an inside joke between our lips. Reminding us of the months we spent in Paris studying art, and fashion, and food, and our love for one another. Oh Daewoo, if you're listening, send me the word.
From my lips to your chamomile sips,
BLB 1544

Posted from Blogium for iPhone

What is forever, anyhow?

Dear Daewoo,

It's been so long since our last correspondence, please dont think i have forgotten about those passionate weeks we spent together. Its just that i caught myself getting too caught up in you and the fantastic and the dreams and the adventures, and i was living in the letters and forgetting to live in the outside world. But, you are still on my mind daily, in my heart forever (and from what ive hear, forever is a long time!) you especially come to the forefront of my mind on those nights I can't master the science of sleep. Ill find myself driving from one side of the state to the other, cause when I can't sleep, and the highways are empty, I like to race to the edge of the horizon line, to finally meet my childhood friend Mr. Moon on the soft spot at the apron of my Mother's driveway (did i ever tell you about Mr. Moon? It is a quite endearing story to hear!), where the cement has cracked from our seasonal weather, dissolving back into original elements, sinking into the place we stole it from. I'm laying at the edge of my childhood home, my face in the sky, my eyes jumping like the stars seem to do when you stare at them too long. Im acknowledging all the constellations above me, letting my imagination play connect the dots with the ones i dont know (kind of like you use to play connect the dots with the freckles on my lower back). I never got to see the sky clearly like this in the city, Not with all the dirtiness: the pollution, and smog, and light (you always said u missed the dark skies of your travels, you hated the city lights so much.)- so to see these light fire balls burning through time to awaken in me this familiar place, feels "special." (special like the time you rescued me from those crook pirates when we sailed through the polynesians, after we recovered the lost journals of your late brother in Atiu) Oh my dear Daewoo, In the midwestern darkness sometimes it feels like you're laying next to me - even though you've never been to this part of the country- and in the singular moment the universe seems to exhale our thoughts simutaneously collide beneath a transparent blanket of stars, and dust, and space junk, and time, and consciousness, and love. Its so infinite, you see? The answers to all the things i struggle to understand about myself, the things that keep me from sleeping, that follow me to my driveway on my night drives, a whole lot of things I never understood seem to be OUT THERE! but from what I heard, it's all "in here" (as in us) too. Soo maybe it's all less complicated than I make it out to be in my head, (you did always laugh at me for making things so damn complicated on myself...), Maybe all this space and time and cracked pavement and inability to forget (you) is really just as simple as the handful of times our parallel lines crossed, those handful of nights we spent wrapped in the blanket of a singular night sky. My darling, my love, my Daewoo, I will count the stars until our love dissolves back, like the sand beneath our feet, into the oceans, where it came from and where it belongs.
Speak to the stars, I will be listening,
BLB 1544

Posted from Blogium for iPhone

One day...

Just hold on a little more...

Jazz and Brando

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.
-Pablo Neruda

Good morning, on July 7

Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all - Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits - Yes, unhappily it must be so - You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never - Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life - Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men - At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day - therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once - Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together - Be calm - love me - today - yesterday - what tearful longings for you - you - you - my life - my all - farewell. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.

ever thine
ever mine
ever ours

July 6, in the morning

My angel, my all, my very self - Only a few words today and at that with pencil (with yours) - Not till tomorrow will my lodgings be definitely determined upon - what a useless waste of time - Why this deep sorrow when necessity speaks - can our love endure except through sacrifices, through not demanding everything from one another; can you change the fact that you are not wholly mine, I not wholly thine - Oh God, look out into the beauties of nature and comfort your heart with that which must be - Love demands everything and that very justly - thus it is to me with you, and to your with me. But you forget so easily that I must live for me and for you; if we were wholly united you would feel the pain of it as little as I - My journey was a fearful one; I did not reach here until 4 o'clock yesterday morning. Lacking horses the post-coach chose another route, but what an awful one; at the stage before the last I was warned not to travel at night; I was made fearful of a forest, but that only made me the more eager - and I was wrong. The coach must needs break down on the wretched road, a bottomless mud road. Without such postilions as I had with me I should have remained stuck in the road. Esterhazy, traveling the usual road here, had the same fate with eight horses that I had with four - Yet I got some pleasure out of it, as I always do when I successfully overcome difficulties - Now a quick change to things internal from things external. We shall surely see each other soon; moreover, today I cannot share with you the thoughts I have had during these last few days touching my own life - If our hearts were always close together, I would have none of these. My heart is full of so many things to say to you - ah - there are moments when I feel that speech amounts to nothing at all - Cheer up - remain my true, my only treasure, my all as I am yours. The gods must send us the rest, what for us must and shall be -

Your faithful LUDWIG.

The Giving Tree

Oh Spanish Moon, Fall & Rise.

JUST IN CASE...
for the sake of being cautious
[but when have I ever been 'cautious']
Well, just in case
we,
it,
this is another tragedy
never again our bodies at the same coordinates
- at that same time-
[like the one time we woke up with sand on our feet
and ocean in our hair, and our limbs tangled together]
Well just in case we never build a sand castle together again
and my name is never on the same page
of this book called 'Life"
as your name...

I want you to know.
So listen obtusely
I'll always carry a piece of 'you-ness' with me
A reminder of the adventure life can be,
if we just 'let it be.'

A reminder that my chest cavity isn't as empty as I'd like to think it is...
there's a heart inside there
a heart that remembered to skip a beat when it was
your hand
in mine.

So just incase our life lines never cross
or mine ends too soon,
thank you
for all the memos
reminding me why I love life
and short kisses on my cheek
and neck
and...
and....
and even the ones that broke down the walls
[that i've spent YEARS building]

It may come as a surprise
Only love is real.
Fear is an absence of love.
There for fear is an illusion,
a lie the ego tells our 'selves'
But in the name of LOVE:
This vulnerability feels safest
Stronger than the fortress I was building inside my chest.

The thrill of the chase

He'll love me, always.

[one day.]

An acquired taste

She's the kind of girl who hangs dream catchers above her bed, who eats pomegranates and reads old history books for fun. She's the kind of girl who sleeps in old men's dress shirts, and wears her earrings to bed. She's the kind of girl who takes pictures of her hands with disposable cameras and wallpapers her bedroom with pretty roses. She's the kind of girl who dances down the street and catches sideways stares of the blank faced pedestrians who pass, but always smiles back. She's the girl with the windows down, and the music up, a breath of life blowing in her hair. She's the girl who's tongue tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, and who smells a bit like a summer in Paris. She's the kind of girl who catches the first snowflake in the palm of her bare hands and watches it melt into her pale skin, before anyone else notices the sky is falling. She's the kind of girl who's laughter echoes in your fondest memories. She's the kind of girl who's always sketching eyes and mouths of the characters in her dreams, and drawing on the back of her bar tab. She's the kind of girl who doesn't know any other way but to wear her heart on her sleeve. She's the kind of girl who looks you right in the eyes, and almost through you when you speak to her.

Whiskey for breakfast, breakfast for dinner

Whenever you are ready
I'll be here waiting
to hear your story
A lifetime of adventure
and a second chance at love

A case of the mean reds

Sometimes I wish I was a boy with a guitar
So I could write girls songs about times
When we wouldn't be lonely or
sitting in bathtubs on a Friday night
with a book and a bottle
and the boys on the radio always wanting to sing the blues

Running like a coward, for the door

When nights were cold
fingers felt like pages
Their noses
numb and vibrant To laugh
in freedom
Walking in shadows
shortened They had
mothers Trains stopped for
the children
I fed the
animals Even though
you told me n o t
to His lips were chapped
like mine Mmmmmmmmm!

I know blue eyes get boring, but I'll wear dark glasses all the time.

That summer in Paris I kept begging you to call me by my 'French' name, the one our professor had so affectionately given me when we completed our course. But, you refused. You said it made me sound like a French whore. I think you were just jealous that he gave me a pet name, and not you! But, I told you, just as long as you refused to call me, 'Chloe Vinewood,' I refused to take off my 'ridiculous' sunglasses that you kept nagging me to stop wearing 24/7. But what you didn't understand darling, is that blue eyes - they're very sensitive to light. Sunlight. Fluorescent light. Moon light. You were convinced that I was 'hiding' from the World behind those big shades, but sweet heart, I was only trying to protect my eye sight! And I must have been doing something right because the optometrist said my eye sight was improving. In fact, he said he had never seen anyone's vision improve so much! I told him that I once read a story about this woman who was blind - not just 'legally blind' like I was, but blind-blind, like the people who need to read braille - and she cured her vision through positive thinking. Supposedly every day she would lay in bed and stare at this one corner in her room and tell herself that she could see, and then slowly but surely her vision corrected itself. Of course my doctor laughed at me and told me it was 'impossible,' but I insure you - I have been practicing similar techniques and, what else could be the explanation for my sudden and drastic improved vision? I asked for the doctors address and mailed him a copy of the story as soon as I got home.

Don't forget to cut the salvage

Lestor always told us, a relationship is like how we pull the thread on the muslin : the more patient and gentle you are, the easier the thread will pass through the grain without breaking.



I wish they would have been more patient.
I wish they wouldn't have allowed the initial rush of lust, that always so conveniently disguises itself as the 'real deal,' to lead them to losing themselves in one another; totally forgetting who they were as individuals.
I wish they wouldn't have allowed it to break. Over, and over, and over again! Until there was nothing left to tug at.
I wish I could stop getting caught up in the 'what ifs' of a past I do not own.
I wish my anxious hands knew of one relationship that didn't break, like all the threads, I pull too quickly.

Frusteration

My shallow breathes take in
the scent left on my sheets

Crawl back into bed
I'll remind you where you belong