the importance of meaning. did you know i heard some pō’ĭ-trē today? it made me think of you (well, what doesn't, really?) and it made me want to read some myself.
sudden thought: the lines between the blogs are blurred again. what was it? "this is the subject; this is the object" and i feel, somehow somehow, that it is the same she who read that poem. i suppose a person is not really a person without blurred edges. i wish people with better feeling were reading those poems.
the.
i went back and read old chat transcripts and missed you. i avoided doing that for a long time. reading transcripts. do you know why? because chat transcripts lie. they remind you of feelings you had that probably weren't really real and of times that were better and happier and not really real either. i did the reading after other people left and it was probably the worst idea possible.
the thing is - not everyone remembers the things i remember. about lost luggage and camels and missing hotel rooms and popcorn and gujarati food. i can't remember how i felt before. that is odd and disconcerting and not really a relief. scoping you out. i wonder why you said so many of the things you said. disapproved. did you? i wish i'd had the courage to ask - i wish i had it now.
i wonder sometimes if i really am as obscure as all that. maybe i can read signals that pass other by. maybe i only give that kind of signal, though in my head i'm singing it loud and clear.
things to say things to say. good coffee in the morning and song lyrics that will always remind me of you.
whatever you're trying isn't really working.
sudden thought: the lines between the blogs are blurred again. what was it? "this is the subject; this is the object" and i feel, somehow somehow, that it is the same she who read that poem. i suppose a person is not really a person without blurred edges. i wish people with better feeling were reading those poems.
the.
i went back and read old chat transcripts and missed you. i avoided doing that for a long time. reading transcripts. do you know why? because chat transcripts lie. they remind you of feelings you had that probably weren't really real and of times that were better and happier and not really real either. i did the reading after other people left and it was probably the worst idea possible.
the thing is - not everyone remembers the things i remember. about lost luggage and camels and missing hotel rooms and popcorn and gujarati food. i can't remember how i felt before. that is odd and disconcerting and not really a relief. scoping you out. i wonder why you said so many of the things you said. disapproved. did you? i wish i'd had the courage to ask - i wish i had it now.
i wonder sometimes if i really am as obscure as all that. maybe i can read signals that pass other by. maybe i only give that kind of signal, though in my head i'm singing it loud and clear.
things to say things to say. good coffee in the morning and song lyrics that will always remind me of you.
whatever you're trying isn't really working.
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