Every little hair knows your name

So today I discovered that my relationship has been built on a foundation of deceit, theft, memory loss, weed and alcohol.

Well, you know what they say…. actually, I don’t think they’ve come up with a saying for this yet.

In other news from the week:

One of the grad students from work put up this Facebook status on Friday-

Intern tells her version of Genesis today:

“Eve eats the poison apple of temptation, and then God gets angry, and they are naked, and God casts them out of paradise and they need to work. Oh, and then they have lots of babies or something.”(5 minutes later)

“Clearly I am a heathen!”

(After posting this) Intern: “This is so embarassing. Public shaming. Hang on. Isn’t that what they do to heathens? Public shaming or something?”
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Also, A mentioned in a thread : Yesterday, R was on Skype, and I told her I could see Facebook reflected in her spectacles. She said– ‘sums up a generation.’ Truer words were never spoken. Ki pathetic.
The person in both instances was me, of course. For some reason everyone at work knew it was me because in their words- no one else would use the word ‘heathen’. The second I only bring up here to convince you that I am not actually a blithering idiot.
In less useless news, I have discovered Jens Lekman, a Swediesh indie pop artist. Your arms around me may just be the best thing I’ve listened to this side of alternate since The Stray Birds. His voice reminds me a little of Morrissey from The Smiths.

Tuni bulb evening

So I’ll always be a little bit crazy just like you’ll always be a little bit dog-eared. It’s an unlikely meeting of sorts but stranger things have happened. This coming year I vow not to wallow in unproductiveness, and I vow to do things, and say things, and feel things without feeling ashamed about them. I’ve been making progress this year, mostly as a sort of fuck it, what-the-hell response to any shred of embarrassment or cringing that happens. It’s yielded mostly good results, but this coming year I’m going to stop feeling less valid. Whatever is not a reasonable response to life, your face is not a reasonable response to life, but I’m glad it exists. Just taking a breather and putting my hat on at an angle and setting forth without a care, with a “we’ll see”, and genuinely not thinking about it anymore has never been my style. I mean it’s been my style in general with adventuring and things, but life’s too goddamn important, y’know? Only this is life too, all the adventuring and whynot and it all wraps up together, not neat but all lumpy.

What I’m saying is, there’s a new year coming. It’s going to be full of new people, and new places, and new feelings and discoveries. I’m a little scared, to be honest. I’m a little less rootless than you said. I’ve always been a wanderin’ but I’ve always been searching for somewhere to – what I’m saying is I’ve been sinking my roots into people. You’re wrong, y’know; the tendrils slowly creeping around your ankles say so.

I read a cummings the other day, and I spoke to someone from the past the other day. It was all just a little strange, just a little familiar, just a little life.

Look, here is what I’m grateful for: a song, the memory of an eye, shots of milk and airmail-borne-understanding. The best things are not always the most obvious.

What I’m saying is, I’ll probably always be a little bit confused, but I’m a little less confused this year, and one of the things is gratitude. I found a piece of writing the other day from earlier this year and it was bursting to the seams with urgency and realness but I couldn’t remember this thing I’d written about. I looked beneath my collarbone, and there it was, a black dot, but I’d thought that was you. Perhaps I’d confused you and me, perhaps I’d dipped too far in and made a mess and couldn’t separate anymore. Bits of you trailing out and seeping in and making new colours.

I read an old email the other day. It wasn’t from you, it was another you at another time, and another me, only half-present. I was worshipped then, but the words ‘love of my life’ do not roll off the tongue easy. They sound untrue and make one uncomfortable. Life isn’t fair, and it moves on, and has a laugh. Look, I’m laughing. Look, I’m here. Look you’re here too. I hope you’ve come to stay.