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 Latest
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Diaryland |
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2003-01-04 - 2:10 a.m. My brother John Logan is departing along with Nikki back to the west coast Sunday. I'm bad company. I'm remnents of pasts forgotten, I'm the misery who imbibes their spirits when they hover near sea level. I'm what's been ruminating on the floor. The grounded, flat out uninteresting trampoline to catch and cradle but never grab hold. Their lives are something and somewhere else. They share their time and my soul praises their spirit and my mind brews a cup of envy. Movement. Even roots of trees have places to go. I lay like concrete with grass and weeds in my cracks. It was beautiful before, but my luster has quickly worn out. Pretty soon I'll be just nodding my head in agreements, oblivious to how people in the west act, mexican cuisine, taco trucks, and Americorps stories. Nikki thanked me for my company. I'm the one that should of done the thanking. She said she would of gone insane, I doubt that, eventhough her family situation sounds a bit crazy. I'm the one who bored her. I wish I could of been cool. I lost it. I don't even have time to be hip no more. I'm aging premature. I've been twiddling my thumbs forever. Why is it so easy to keep playing the same old songs on a sinking ship? I make bad company. Get a hobby before you call my number, later, you'll thank me, even later still you'll forget me. You'll lose me in the loop. All is forgiven my friend but can you find it within to forgive me? A tired soul who makes yawns contagious? A soul that looks for shortcuts? Don't dim your lights over me.
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