stand/alone/bitch's New Writeups

My regret sits on the floor like someone else's polaroid photos (person)

2002-01-13T05:56:29Z

In my classroom there is a little black road lined with scribbled cars stapled on. It starts at one corner of the wall and runs right into a big empty tree. The tree itself is just a sad trunk, one that has already lost all of its construction paper leaves. OUR OWN LITTLE HIGHWAY TO NOWHERE. Some days I announce this, wishing for a crazy cutout paper car to crash into a paper tree. Wouldn't it be lovely if I could just slip in. Wouldn't it be delightful if these babies could hear the sad dying humor in my voice.

Sometimes, my interest sits on the floor like someone else's dead fires. Which is mostly wonder at how bright it can burn and what it will look like the next day.

Some people are do you mind: We will take your head out for a spin & give it back (all shook up). It will be no worse for the wear. Promise.
There was one, smiling, and me wondering how his angel smile could so disarm me as to want what I did not know I wanted. Maybe all I wanted (not knowing, of course),

…

Dream Log: January 6, 2002 (idea)

2002-01-06T20:46:26Z

Here is some nice darkness:

Midnight, turn over. My bed is a boat and I am the captain. My bed is a plane and I am the pilot. My bed is a bicycle and I am riding upright no hands, headed straight to infinity. Keep riding.

Midnight, and the strung lights decide to turn into spiral loops of firecolor. I close/open my open/closed eyes and watch it all unravel. And watch, until it spirals into darkness.

Midnight, it is Heather & I refusing to give in to the end of a Saturday night. We are losers. We know it, and instead of heading home after the movie we drive down curving wooded streets, spying on Christmas lit houses. Talking. And talking. And talking.
Something in the road. My instinct is to honk, why the fuck are there ten or so people crossing at this time of night? But. I slow, wait for the headlights to fully illuminate them. And .
It is three does, four fawn. Prancing. Strutting their beautiful high asses across the street, easy as you please.

…

Riverside Park (place)

2001-12-31T17:24:24Z

Riverside Park stretches along the edge of Manhattan's Upper West Side from 72^nd to 155^th streets, facing the Hudson River. Roughly 316 acres, the park is four miles long and 1/8th of a mile wide, making it the narrowest regional park in New York City. The park is bordered by Riverside Drive, as well as the Henry Hudson Parkway/West Side Highway which runs roughly parallel. It is a splendid bit of greenery; has a bike path, pedestrian path, and plenty of benches for sitting.

The park is as loved by 'West Siders' almost as much as Central Park; it has wonderful cliff views of the Hudson River in the spring and fall. As well, you get a splendid view of New Jersey across the Hudson – in the morning the opposite shoreline faces east into the soft sun; or, in the evening, it can seen through the blinding yellow glaze of the sun setting in your eyes.

Riverside Park was designed and developed in a few stages. In 1865 a proposal came from parks…

Dream Log: December 28, 2001 (person)

2001-12-28T16:24:48Z

A no-name, no-beauty strange girl-child in my care. I am watching over her, in line with the other girls: a row of pale wraith-like things in bright red flowing robes. Almost as if chosen for their seamless indistinguishable characteristics, slowly they filed one by one up the ramp and onto the ship.

Me, below, watching. My girl collapses quietly, without show, barely interrupting the measured movements about her. Me, below, hysterical. That is my ghost and she's having her baby.

The quiet assembled crowd disperses without once looking at the woman on the floor. Someone delivers the child easily and without fuss; hands the tiny squalling thing over to me.

All I can find for this baby is a rough towel, nowhere near enough warmth, and the shipyard is a silent theater. Everyone watches the procession of pale girls file onto the ship; Me, below, breathless with a sudden child in my care.

Just so you might know. Just in case you might want this baby that nobody else…

Juno and Juliet (thing)

2001-12-16T16:29:32Z

Juno and Juliet is the delightful debut novel from Irishman Julian Gough. It feels like an easily written memoir, narrated with light, self-mocking humor by Juliet Taylor. Leaving home, (Tipperary,) for the first time, to attend the University of County Galway, Juliet is not utterly alone, as she is with her identical twin Juno.

Once in Galway, the girls face typical issues that arise once having left home for the first time. Finding lodgings, meeting new people, settling into routine in a strange city. For some reason Juliet has always believed Juno to be the cleverer, more beautiful, more charming sister; now Juliet begins growing into her glorious own.

'I'd always felt I was the wrong shape for the town I was born into, scuffing my cramped and awkward way through childhood, catching myself on the snags of the town as I desperately tried to grow up without damaging myself too badly, choking on claustrophobia and ducking low expectations in

…

Lying to David (person)

2001-12-02T19:24:03Z

It was ~~wicked. Delirious heady crazy dangerous.~~ Normal.

Here's what: she has always been a liar. She has always changed truths in telling stories, abbreviated or lengthened time slots in describing a days worth. Because it is easier sometimes, than explaining. Because it is easier, sometimes, than elaborating, or justifying. Because she is lazy. Because she is a liar. Because who isn't.

David knows this. He also knows that these lies are harmless for the most part. Besides for the lazy, they also create a protective shield around herself. The less truth known the better.

But. Never any big lies to people that matter. Never any lying at all to lovely solid David. She tells him this blithely, easily - not stopping to think - sure there's nothing she's forgotten.

Like: the time she was held up in a meeting for hours; really was shopping. Like: the time her room took her all day to clean; really read through all of Crime and Punishment…