PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

this weekend was too long

Monday, Jun. 24, 2002
written at 11:01 p.m. on 6/23/02

I spent my weekend curled up on one of the leather marshmallows reading. First I read Flaming Iquana’s by Erika Lopez. It was a strangely wild ride. I love the way this girl can write a sentence. She has that Westerberg’esque way of putting together a sentence. I actually used my roll out highlighter a thousand times while reading this book. I had the intention of documenting my favorite passages here, but I have come to realize I would have to re-type the whole book before I was satisfied. The story is “girl gets bike, rides bike across the u.s. of a.” That’s it for storyline. It’s not the characters or the events. It is her view on life that kept me intrigued and interested. It was the “wow she really said that!!!” that I kept hearing in my own head while I read this book. Again, I get jack for nothing for telling anyone that this is what I think of a book. Recently I’ve just lucked out by picking up interesting looking books with no rhyme or reason to why I chose them. I have ended up reading some great stuff. Incidentally this particular book is illustrated and the font in the book is just totally rocking. I wish I could find that font online and make my diary into that font. I mean, font…it’s a stupid thing for me to care about or talk about, but you’d have to see the text in this book to understand. It’s just great to read a book that looks different for a change.

Then I got the new issue (July/Aug) of BOOK magazine this weekend. I love that magazine because hey…doh… I love books!!! And right on the front was none other than Ethan Hawke. Ethan Hawke is easily the sexiest boy I’ve ever seen. I think he ranks up there with Brad Pitt in a non-Brad Pitt kind of way. I mean, Brad Pitt is just too damn good looking to be real in my mind. Where Ethan Hawke has that boy next-door sex appeal. And his eyes!!! C’mon… So anyways…(let me go get some ice….hang on….


Whew..ok I’m back…(I know you didn’t miss me….) So…I had this book sitting on my bookshelf. “The Hottest State” by Ethan Hawke. I have owned this book for close to 6 months and never even cracked it open to see what it was about. So after seeing these great pics of Ethan on the cover of BOOK I decided to open it. That was at 3 p.m. today. I just finished right before I started typing this entry. 8 hours later. (pee [haa!] breaks, snack breaks….listen to the rain breaks included) This novel is not what I would call brilliant or what I would call award winning. But it is what I would call a damn engaging story of a relationship. It’s a real book. Not one where the characters meet, make love, and then someone cheats and it’s all over. It’s more like boy meets girl, wants girl desperately, girl wants boy too but she wants boy to promise to never leave, he wants to marry her, she’s afraid to believe in love…. To make a long story short, it’s love in its most real and raw form. Complicated!! So…here’s my letter to Ethan..if I knew his address.

Dear Mr. Hawke,

Your book “The Hottest State” wasn’t the best book I ever read. It wasn’t the worst book I ever read. But it was the first book I ever read that was about love in a “real” way.

I genuinely appreciated the fact that “Sarah” wasn’t perfect in Williams’s eyes. He saw her not so perfect body, her fears, her quirks, and her faults. He spoke of them in his own thoughts as being mere facts and yet he loved her fiercely with everything he had despite them. That will remain in my mind for quite awhile now.

I look forward to reading your new novel “Ash Wednesday”. And I’m sorry that I left your book sitting on my bookshelf for so long before reading it. But hey I did read it and I’m telling a few people who read my diary about it, that counts for something right?

By the way, thanks for wearing your wedding ring on a magazine cover. Something about that detail didn’t escape me.

Keep writing, I’ll keep reading.

Nauseously Ingratiating,

PoeticaL

…excerpt from “The Hottest State” by Ethan Hawke

“It’s kind of like this,” Decker said: “You wake up in the middle of the night and you’re dying for a glass of milk. So you stumble out of bed, stub your toe in the darkness, scream with pain, and limp your way to the refrigerator. You open it up and the light is brilliant. You’re saved. Then you fold back the paper container, open up the milk, take a deep breath, and put it to your lips. Only ---yurch!—the milk is spoiled. Sure, you’re bummed. You fold the thing closed and put it back in the fridge. It’s dark again. But as you’re making your way to your lonely old bed, you think to yourself, Wait a minute, maybe that milk wasn’t so bad. And I am still thirsty? So you do an about face and go back to the fridge. The light warms you up again. You take a sip and, yup, it’s still spoiled. That, to me, is the fitting metaphor for most every relationship I’ve ever been in.”

~~~~

This weekend in the funny papers on Sunday, the Family Circus stip…made me cry. I cut it out and I’m going to frame it.

This weekend it rained really hard and I stood on the porch and cried.

This weekend, I lit all of my candles, turned on Alan Jackson, pulled my legs up and hugged them close to me, and I cried.

This weekend I watched too many lifetime movies. (those people ought to be shot!!), I painted my fingernails and my toenails bright 16 year old-like pink. I took too many baths. I cleaned up too many times. I took pictures of my house that I couldn’t download because the battery went dead. I hugged my Pooh head a little too tight and wondered if he’d get all nappy like that teddybear when I was 11. I thought about making cookies and then remembered my fat ass problem. I felt bad about my cell phone battery going dead on Friday afternoon before I could say goodbye. I thought about phone calls telling me he didn’t have his cell phone all weekend…and remember how much I just wanted to hear his voice and listened to the voice mail 50+ times ‘til my cell phone battery died again. I bought slip on Sketcher sneakers called “Street Cleats” and wore them around the house cause they made me feel kewl even though I had nowhere to go. I tried on “hoochie” shoes with “Bucky”. We walked around the store pretending we were “hot” and we giggled cause he’s a boy and I’m a mommy. I watched “Waking the Dead” two more times just cause I love that scene where they sit across from each other with a daisy centerpiece between them and they look so happy it makes my soul break. This weekend right at 2 a.m. I watched a porn where they speak in French and someone badly dubbed over stupid English dialogue, but scene 2 boy #1….um…wow! I thought about how my vibrator got broken and how he promised he would replace it but I don’t ever pick up his calls to my cell phone anymore. I tried to imagine what he wanted to say to me. I imagined him pulling me close to him again telling me “let me taste you” the way he did before. The way he was happy he could get up and take a shower instead of running off quickly looking behind him for someone else’s headlights on the street. I imagine that he called to tell me about the brand new “violator” bunny thing he just bought me, but I got sad because I was sure it was just a free booty call instead. This weekend I smelled “Pink” at the mall and wanted that to be the scent that someone new would remember me by. I saved $20 towards a big bottle I can buy next weekend. This weekend I went to see that “yaya” movie all by myself and had the best time just leaning back in the seat all alone. Then I imagined my hand running up “his” thigh in the dark next to me. Would he let me? Would he stop me? Would his thigh feel sculpted under my fingertips? Would it feel hot? Would his jeans stick to his stomach all night after the movie? Then I remember he only really gets hard over Steven Segal. This weekend I drank too much coffee, felt too jittery and wanted nothing more than to hear the heavy breathing of man gripping my hips, whispering my name violently like an animal killing it’s prey. This weekend I sat in a corner listening to a man snoring and watching the moon move across the wall coming to get me. This weekend I saw pictures of my car when I first got it and remembered just how kewl it used to be before DUI bent metal criminal crashes. This weekend, I cleaned out my desk drawer and found lipgloss I used to want to eat. It smelled rank and I threw it away realizing that everything good ends or changes until it’s not good anymore. This weekend I called him a hundred times…in my mind. This weekend I wondered who was thinking about me, and I realized that it was probably no one. This weekend I added my new books to my bookshelf list, and realized that only pathetic losers with nothing better to do have a bookshelf that’s organized with a list. This weekend I talked to Delboy for 3 hours and never really told him why I actually called him. I didn’t think it would go over well to just say, “I wanted to kill a lot of hours because I am so lost.” Instead I said, “I’ve missed you and I’m upset you haven’t called me.” I think I just wish he had a lot of lost hours of his own so I didn’t feel so needy. This weekend I watched my son draw a picture of a football player as though it was for an award. Intent, eyes clenching the paper, fisting the crayon like a sword. This weekend, I noticed that husband has his pot belly back. That’s the same pot belly he murdered for her. This weekend I went to the bookstore and didn’t feel that sudden rush of excitement. I wondered around and left, buying nothing. This weekend I wish Tim had made it, but I’m glad he didn’t because I have something to look forward to for another week. After that….who knows. This weekend, I shaved my legs and put on tons of hazelnut lotion and my dogs kept licking my legs even though I kept secretly thinking of other tongues in other places. This weekend I realized I am in jail. I realized that my life is in the garage. I realized I gave up too soon. And I realized it’s never too late. This weekend no one called me, so posting my phone number online didn’t illicit any interesting anything’s. Nothing at all! This weekend I thought about how I’m not lying to anyone. I felt only the weight of air on my shoulders. I thought about how I wish I could just tell him I love him and have him say something other than “you just think that you do.” Tonight I listened to Ben Haper too much. This weekend I cried too much. Tonight I just think this weekend was just too damn long…yeah I’m pretty sure that’s what I think.

-PoeticaL


and sometimes the pain
or the frustration
drives into my heart and turns into lust
and fulfillment
a fulfillment you can only achieve thru thoughts
….through communication

- M I K E

Alone

This empty room it fills my mind
Freedom it leaves me confined
Every single wall has cracked
But in this life you can't turn back

I don't want to live,
I don't want to live alone
Alone
Alone
Alone

As these words are with my tongue
I question why they're even sung
I have promised but I lied
I don't even know myself inside

I don't want to be,
I don't wanna be here alone
Alone
Alone
Alone

Today and tomorrow have become one
Every single thing has become none
Human nature is a beast
What I've done the most to show I have the least

Please don't leave me here,
please don't leave me here
Don't you leave me alone
Alone
Alone
Alone
Ben Harper

Suzie Blue

Real life has let you down
Real life has let you down
Some one stripped the shoes from your ground
Everybody (is) always somebody's something
Ben Harper
8:14 a.m. ::
prev :: next