freedom isn’t free
November 20, 2008 – 9:38 ami breathe in rhythmic heartbeats and red leaves and wine
and my ribs are bruised from caving in from sobs against your spine
let freedom ring
November 12, 2008 – 8:35 pmit’s 9pm
and i’m eating caramel again
my organs twisted up like
craning hurricane wind
i often wonder if all runners are alike
some piece of us arrives and ends up
at the same translation of pain as the others
and we are back at the intersection where
love is situational
and comfort is geographical, nothing seems chronological except
you and i
is this the same theme?
so sing it again, sam,
sing it again
crumble for me
October 8, 2008 – 7:19 pmit’s hard not to change. it’s hard not to let this world change me. materialism is rampant, even as our world caves in.
i meditate on the good things in life. the smooth ebb and flow of gentle love as compared to argumentative wrestles of the heart.
most of the time, i let the hum of daily life carry me to the right and down of the pages we walk on. there is this note of masochism that hangs in the space above me, and i wrench my heart apart when i have nothing better to do. i tread on fine waters of defining beauty and “skinny” and body. and god.
what does exist?
.
financial markets topple at our feet,
much like
the way
boys and hearts
crumble at yours
and my eyes are not your eyes
but i
yet i
i feel
this country is no longer a mountain, but
my breath is.
one after another, doubtless and doubtful,
i dream of hierarchies
and he dreams of me
10 miles.
October 5, 2008 – 8:54 pmwhile running with tim in playa del carmen, he asked me what i think about when i run. i told him nothing. a whole lot of nothing. i literally concentrate on just running and breathing and not stopping.
today i finished 10 miles, and it was a different story.
by mile 7, the rhythmic trotting of my feet wasn’t enough anymore, and i was struggling to think of thoughts that would keep me occupied. i thought about spain, i thought about running down Avenida Diagonal in barcelona and marveling at the mosaic pavement. i thought about high school, i thought about the way i felt each time i met for the first time an eventual boyfriend. i thought about food because i was famished and i thought about water because i was thirsty. i thought about how my hair looked and i thought about running on the beach and how it made my ankles wobble and throb. i thought about my friend who lost a toenail while running a marathon. i thought about paritosh’s email and i thought about yoga. i though about hieu sitting at home alone waiting for me and i felt guilty, so i ran a little faster. i thought about zombies a lot, because we watched 28 weeks later at kristal’s apartment last night. i thought about zombies coming out of the trees and i thought about the girls running next to me turning into zombies. i thought about my coffee table that hieu put together, and i thought about floating candles. i thought about work, and i felt empty. i thought about my feet. i thought about tango, and i felt like i was cheating on tango with running. i thought about food. i thought about julieta venegas, and i listened to El Presente three times in a row. i thought about what i ate that day (obviously not enough). i thought more about food.
running is both everything and nothing henry said it is (re: time traveler’s wife). i’m not sure if it’s a form of sanity or meditation or both. does it make me more present? does it remove me from the present? i’m not sure. by mile 10, my whole being was numb and i was just concentrating on where my car was. just get to the car, just get to the car. i made it, and i wanted to collapse, but i didn’t. i kept walking. maybe this is what flying feels like.
rose ftl
September 22, 2008 – 8:42 pmRose: Do you know Excel pivot tables?
Hieu: No.
Rose: I thought you were Microsoft-Certified-whatever-the-crap-that-is…
Hieu: Psh. Microsoft has a lot of products. Just because I’m certified in one product doesn’t mean I’m certified in all products!!
Rose: Then wtf are you certified in?
Hieu: Managing and maintaining a Windows 2003 environment
Rose: uh. Wtf does that even mean? Sounds useless.
Hieu: Means I’m smarter than you. Booyah.
comfortable things
September 21, 2008 – 1:08 pmwelcome back, Houston.
- the sunday comics in the steadfast Houston Chronicle
- sunlight pouring through venetian blinds, bravely fending off the darkness of an apartment sans electricity
- trees withstanding years and hurricanes
- jazz recordings
- red nail polish
- cold sesame noodles from Whole Foods
- red bedsheets
- hot soy chai
- candles strewn around my house
- sunday yoga at noon
- letters to houston
- alone time
- julieta venegas on the radio
- fresh flowers
- three-day-old flowers
- sunglasses
- pink striped scarves
matchbox
August 29, 2008 – 12:43 pmit’s quiet tonight and you
instruct me where i should place my head,
looking straight backward instead of
pressed against your cheek .
in the midst of our arena of love-making and hope
my gasoline-drenched legs rub against the gunpowder of her smoldering words
and one morning it was all burning,
bandits of courage, burning
bandages of poetry, burning
bees and honey
and anthologies of a mere thought named Peace
and i’m still gasoline,
lying here with pieces of past
strewn all over the ground
it’s quiet tonight and i
listen patiently to your chest
while the swords of your breath
challenge duels with the air
“Let me explain a few things,”
you offered in the dark
and in your wordless explanation you
fastened your body to my arms
and reminded me with galloping silence
that love is not always melancholy
and songs are not always sad
and poetry doesn’t always burn,
and peace can be more than thought
and breathing doesn’t always mean fighting
and if these are the nights of vulnerable hands,
let me be water this once
let me break against your harbor of sand.
let’s play
August 25, 2008 – 10:45 am“It’s more important to play with people you like than to play with people who are good.”
B.B. King
that’ll get me through another month of tango. at least i feel a little less bad that i don’t have the guts to dance with the intimidating people.
Carrie and i pow-wowed on the couch at the milonga last night. i told her i almost didn’t go to the milonga because i was just having one of those against-tango nights. and she said she understood; to her, tango is like a lover and you are always dodging its betrayal.
i still danced some great tandas, though. all with people that i like a lot. not necessarily the best, but people who i really like. and viju let me wear his really cool hat.
right before i left the milonga to return to my castle where my real prince was slaying real dragons in my absence, luis asked for The Tragic Love Story of My Last Ex-Boyfriend. so i told him about fake slain dragons and real fat lies. and he said, “rose, i read some great advice for women in a book today. if you have many men who court you, pay attention not to what they say to you, but only to what they do for you.”
maybe sex-and-the-city Carrie was right. maybe we need to warn our daughters that the fairy tales aren’t what you should believe. that though the real princes may not offer the most beautiful monologues or write the most eloquent love letters, they won’t have to. everything they’d want to tell you will already be apparent in something they’ve already done.
closest thing
August 21, 2008 – 11:18 am
my battle with geography wrenches my heart around and laughs in delight as i sit just across the room from you- yet, proximity aside, at the same time i find myself unable to find a fitting flight that will land me by your side.
i’m like the scarcity of air, and you’re like my shore. i’m a wilted nocturne against your sonata (allegro movement). our dance is like the movement of accordians, as you sigh and patiently extract honesty out of my forced tears. i’m closer than i ever got before. and we’re getting closer still.