Wednesday, January 27, 2010


beseech \bi-SEECH\, verb; to ask earnestly; implore

We had never been out here this late before.
Okay, that was a lie. We had been meeting up in the same location at least once a week for the last month or so, but I tried not to think about it.
Well I think about it all the time actually. I can't stop myself. The nights we meet are the most exciting things that have ever happened to me. Although I wouldn't exactly call it exciting stuff, I guess. It's not like we really do anything. We just sit there and look out at the ocean, the blackness of it. We more like listen to it, I guess. It's not like you can really see anything. Except for maybe the lights of far off boats...tankers...ships. There's also the sound of the water, lapping onto the beach and then being pulled back into the deep, like the sound of sequins falling to the ground. If the moon is out, the water kind of shimmers like sequins too, or how I imagine sequins would shimmer. Or like I imagine the sound of it falling would be.
I don't really spend my time imagining things like that. I don't know where that came from. I just get so excited to think about those nights, I guess. These are all things that I want to say out loud to her while we are just sitting there, staring out at the water, but I don't say anything. And she doesn't say anything. The night our meet-ups started, the first night I found her there, we didn't say anything either. When she saw me approaching, all she did was stick her finger to her lips and give me the signal to be silent. I was just so surprised to find someone else out on the beach so late at night that all I did was stare at her and then sit down right next to her.
Well it wasn't all I did. At first I was going to just walk on by her and try to mind my own business but I got about 5 steps away before turning back around. I had gone out to the beach to be alone and do my own wandering, but when I stumbled upon her, it just felt right to be her companion and to make her mine. Two lost souls staring out at the open water, dreaming of far away places...
Actually that isn't quite what I was dreaming of, and I don't really know what she was thinking at all. I still don't know. We still don't talk. But the same night every week, I walk over to that same spot and there she is. Of course she could be there every night of the week for all I know, but I figure she must be there for some sort of privacy and so I ought to give it to her.
Honestly I'd be there every night too if mom wouldn't fuss about it so much, but I know she would.
The beach really is so peaceful. It's like the world is quiet there. The world is so big and it curves, but on the beach its largeness almost seems small. Or rather you just feel like such a part of it that it can't be much bigger than you are. Or you imagine that's how big your insides are, how big your heart is, how large your possibilities. And it's where you can meet someone and not talk and still feel like you know that person through and through. Like you can see the light in them, way off in the distance.

Sunday, January 3, 2010


lampoon \lam-POON\, noun, verb:
1. a light, good-humored satire
ridicule with satire

Why do we want cigarettes if they are bad for us? Do we want them because they are bad for us? Is that the only reason to like any bad thing? Why alcohol is craved after work? Why a one night stand seems so compelling? Is it really compelling at all or has it become cliche like burning for a cigarette when out drinking?
Well whatever it is I like to smoke when I drink and when I drink a scandalous night romping in the bedroom sounds like a pretty good damn idea, and then give me another cigarette and a cup of coffee in the morning. Sure, I'll take it in bed. Why rush off?
But who am I kidding? I've never had a one night stand in my life, and cigarettes make my throat itch and cough up little green balls of goo when I brush my teeth. Hell, I can't even stand the smell of the smoke on my fingertips or in my hair or on my clothes. It pisses me off actually. Why does something that feels so good have to have so many lingering and malignant repercussions? And why does something as refreshing as a morning run so impossible to set in motion? Forget how good it feels afterward - the idea is just plain unappealing when you're lying in bed, snug under the sheets, warm toes, warm fingertips, maybe even a warm body pressed up against you with all of their warm toes and fingertips. That's good too, isn't it? Who needs a run then? No matter how good it might feel when it's done. You could trip and fall too. Get your hands all scraped up. At the very least your nose gets cold and it starts running with you only in an unpleasant way that won't leave you alone until you've wiped what's running onto your glove or sleeve and it seeps in there, glistening in the morning sun, reminding you of just how damned cold it is. Oh and your nose is still pushing out more. No, I say it's best to stay in bed.
Anyway, doing the healthy thing has yet to put a warm body between the sheets lying next to me.