*I like listening to Tim McGraw’s Greatest Hits in my car when I’m feeling all fuckered or alternately when I’m really grooving on my own personal sense of wholesome and wanting to “watch my corn pop up in rows.” I’m not ashamed of this or anything. It’s just something people probably don’t know and wouldn’t guess. I have zero interest in acquiring any of his other albums or any other pop country music. I’m good, you can keep ‘em just “don’t take the girl.”
*I think of random romantic/fabulous/funny/wonderful/touching gift ideas. All the time. I don’t DO them. When you think about it most great love acts are essentially harassment or stalkerish or at the least creepy outside the exact right context. I feel like that; like the pebble on a moonlit window, the finger sliding through the steam on a mirror in the bathroom, the box of butterflies just waiting for the right reflecting pane, the hot enough shower, the correct shadow box frame to be pinned down in.
*I keep having this strange urge to get inside a Christmas tree. I mean I always like getting a Christmas tree. The entire ridiculous tradition. I like going to get the tree. I like watching them cut it. I like the ordeal of attaching it to a vehicle and the edge of your seat drive home. I like trying to get it to stand up in the shitty stand we have and I like the tantrum fight I have with the lights every goddamn year. I like our mismatched stupid ornaments. I like that it falls over on someone EVERY FUCKING YEAR and it‘s usually ME! I like all of it. The smell, the outside in, the insanity of it; it all tickles me to no end. But … this whole wanting to shimmy my body in the branches of pine thing… that’s weird. All sappy and pine scented and pokey and whatnot. Fuck tree hugging. I wanna be a tree humper. I wanna crawl right up IN a fucking tree. It’s weird but I doubt I can resist.
*…..it’s this getting warm thing. Damn it. There was a part in the last book I finished (This Book Will Save Your Life) about that.... I would quote but downstairs is a long ways away, it‘s about… coming in from the cold and how much everything has to hurt before you can feel again. How it’s just too fucking much. I’m having that except I can’t get enough. More more more. Again again again. It’s new and it’s old and it’s me alive. It’s that game the kids play where the prize is hidden and they wander the house shouting warmer! Getting warmer! Getting hot! On fire! You’re on fire!!! Keep going it’s right there you’re burning up! It’s burning me in spots but I’m not warm yet so I can’t stop. and I don't want to. :) I want to the max. No use holding back 'cause you don't get to keep anything anyway.
December 04, 2009
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