seethingblue's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- the last great weekend before the fourth I ignore the heat of summer well. People are flocking to the beach, to condos overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. They're tearing down the natural sand dunes at St. George Island to erect more and more buildings. I miss the ocean before the beach became a commodity. The idea that we walk around on land that was once underwater or swim in waters that were once exposed makes me feel very small and very human and very vulnerable. I want to find you again when I am very old, maybe 70 something going into my 80s, and maybe losing my memory and having trouble recalling when or where. And then we will have all of life behind us. Just on the verge of returning back, we will maybe be able to see how precious youth really is, how we were precious once too. Twenty-two isn't enough time to understand, nor is thirty or forty. I cannot imagine myself at forty. I can't imagine the type of shoes I will pick out to wear and the hairstyle I will adorn and the way I will carry myself in shopping malls and parking lots. Or if I will do these things at all. The thunder is familiar once again. But the rain is invasive, noisy, steaming. I never thought I would love thunder. I want to buy the next great album by the next great thing, read a book in one sitting, stay up till sunrise finishing the last page, and never miss one phonecall. I don't want birthdays anymore. I would give it all back to be stuck in a certain moment, feeling, for as long as I want. But maybe I just want you somehow. And I just tell myself I'm going crazy or immature or incapable of love or being loved. 16:38 - 25 June, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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