[ Monday, October 18, 2004 ]
Two months with nothing to say. Perhaps my method of communication is changing. I haven't felt the need to write anything down. Snippets of lines that will never become poems. That will be forgotten. Or filed away. Or lost.
Lack of motivation is such a bitch.
I'm ambitious. But not motivated.
I don't know that that will ever change.
Friday, I lived in a painting.
Beautiful dirty blue sky mottled with grey & white. The orange, mustard, almost red of leaves pressed against that. Barbed wire fences framed cliff lines, perfectly. And I stopped, in the middle of a newly blacktopped road & took that in, wished that I had my camera. Wanted to share that moment. Wanted to say 'Look at this. Really look at this.'
The rusted red tin of old barns--that's what I've been noticing lately. On my drives to Grassy Creek I contemplate photography sessions. I imagine tulle skirts & the doorways of old barns. Photographs that look hurried & unfinished--maybe just from the neck down, or blurred, grainy & dark.
Beside one old barn with a rusted red tin roof, are stalls, white & faded, paint peeling in places or gone entirely. I imagine Cody, Miranda, Kate, Lisa, Katie, Sam, Marilyn....oodles of kids & mothers peeking out of those stalls, caught in mid laugh, elbows perched against the wood. I want to take that photograph with a wide angle lens. Then frame it. And look at it every day.
My days are marked by an old car with no wheels & the loveliest shade of blue & green paint, speckled with rust. Since spring I've been noting the same old car. Almost inhaling the scene, the mixture of colors as I pass it. Now it's lined with leaves. And I think I should document my seasons with that car. Four photographs, in a line, on a wall. A way to remember this year.
I've been thinking about the girl I was. And the girl I am. I've been thinking about old loves. How eager I was to accept anything that seemed like affection & label it love. How foolish I was. How young & foolish I was. And absolutely blind. Or unwilling to see. Or maybe just tainted by my own beliefs.
At 7 this morning, sitting on the edge of the bed tying my shoes, while a portable heater exhaled warm air & a hum, I felt fingers against my back. With that one touch I felt love. I felt an entire page of sentiment written in that one touch. A past, a now & a forever.
And so now I feel foolish. To have spent so many years wanting, wanting, wanting...something that could have never compared to what was meant for me.
~ Rebecca 10:32 AM [+] (0) comments
