2004-10-07
Cappuccino
I stayed up last night, reading Kafka and saying the words aloud--I was reading The Trial--quickly, it is becoming my only source of relaxation at the end of the day.
I need to read sometimes, to forget everything that is going on around me. Yesterday's afternoon was once more, perfect--leaves rustling and dancing in continuous harmony with the wind.
My parents have decided to leave me alone in the house, while going off to visit some friends. Although my evenings are spent silent.
Once getting home, I finish my work (or make the attempt), only to cook for myself. Last night, I attempted "Greek Lemon Chicken", which came out perfectly--much to my surprise. I dine quietly in the dimmed dining room, with the muffled sounds of the debates in the background.
Much too exhausted, I refused to watch the vice-presidential debates--I opted for going inside my Jacuzzi instead.
I keep thinking about numerous things--still. Last night, after reading his words, I felt an invisible dagger slash through my heart.
I still care, despite everything. Finally, I told him that I love him...never have I been able to mouth profound feelings. I am always confined to writing what I feel, but it's wonderful...and now I know that I'm human, and that I am alive.
Everyday I am more transfixed by Thoreau---the lifestyle, the independent.
I'd like to live in Walden Pond and become lost in the passing wind--my feet gliding through the autumn leaves. I'd like to close my eyes and see the dialogue between Vivaldi's violins. Life seems perfect for me sometimes...in Vivaldi's second Winter movement, I am reminded of the beautiful, yet painful poggression of time. All things must grow at some point...
And that is all I have ever wanted, to be left alone to write, and to listen to the faint whistling of a tea kettle.
I would simply like to fish....fish in the sky...