a message for you.
please excuse my dust as this blog site is still under construction.
tiny pumpkins.
(posted on Monday, April 27 by eii wyy nae.)
I don't even smoke. Sometimes, on days like today, when I'm tired and the sun is low in the sky and I need a scarf and coffee and my hair is messy and my lashes are long, sometimes, I wish I had somewhere to go like a roof with a view of more than backyards or somewhere with steps to sit on made of the most uncomfortable hard concrete imaginable that is at the same time strangely comforting because it reminds you of sitting on pavements when you were little or falling on your roller skates and grazing your knees.
I want to go somewhere like that and smoke a cigarette. Not to be cool, not to rebel like when I was 15 and so so bad. But just for something to do, because like the concrete it's comforting.
And I'll convince myself it smells of sweet things I smelled when I was young, and tastes like chocolate & caramel. I want to sit there and look at my shoes, and look at the clouds and the orange and red and yellow in the streets and be alone and smoke. And I'll think about the boy who I used to know, whose birthday was yesterday and how he'll never remember me, and how
I burnt my hand on the oven today trying to get a pizza out and when I couldn't I left it there and now I'm hungry but I don't like cold pizza, and how I love this time of year more than anyone can possibly imagine. And then I'll feel awfully lonely, but in the most comforting way possible. It'll feel like a big warm blanket, making me sleepy, dazed, content.
I'll make a list of things to do, like how I want to buy all of my favourite CDs on vinyl because I'm so tired of technology and downloads and I like how it sounds so much better on vinyl. I also want to dye my hair red, but I won't do it. I never do the things I say I will, as much as I want to, and I don't really understand why. The next item on my to-do list will be to get drunk on things that taste like watermelon and things that I don't like very much but it doesn't matter because I'll probably have my 'chocolate & caramel' taste swirling thickly around my mouth then too.
I'll remind myself to buy a xylophone or glockenspiel, they sound like windchimes and fairies and late nights with the stars out. I'll remind myself of all of the things I'm tired of and all of the things I miss, and all of those things that should be cold and horrible and uncomfortable but never are because their familiarity makes them special. It's a nostalgia thing I guess, I'm never too tired for nostalgia. I'll write about it until you can't take it anymore and pack your suitcases and move away.
I like notes and old books and little envelopes and music that I can literally touch and whispers and echoes and writing that isn't 12pt Times New Roman. I'm tired of things not being personal.
Smoking on rooftops aside, that's the loneliest thing in the world.
Signed with love,
the diarykeeper, ' my charliegirl
Labels: puffing, pumpkins, sweet.
