Indian Cafe
Salisbury
7/11/07
1:45 PM
I'm not entirely sure if it's okay to write while I'm sitting here. It's kind of a nice restaurant. But I"m the only customer right now, so I'm taking the liberty.
Today I'm visiting Stonehenge. But when I got to the train station at Salisbury, I saw an enormous cathedral spire in the distance, so I decided to go exploring. It's beautiful, but almost entirely touristy now. I went to a part of their noon service, but in the end I was just struck by how commercial it all was. Fortunately they at least had candles for me to light; I lit a couple for Gina.
In Spain, after Luxembourg, Gina & I spent one day wandering the downtown parts of Valencia & visited their famous churches, whatever they were. In most of them I was actually disgusted & repulsed by their prostitution to the tourism industry. But the crux of the thing was--they had electric "candles." You couldn't light a simple candle for someone. You'd put in the coins and a little electric light would light up. I refused. Those churches actually made me angry. This one--the Cathedral of Salisbury--interested me, and somewhat saddened me, but didn't hurt like the others.
Salisbury apparently has one of the 4 surviving Magna Carta copies. I guess it was mis-filed in a library & survived here at the cathedral until it was discovered in the 1900s. Funny circumstance.
The
(Editor's Note: nothing further)
Wednesday, June 20
July 11, 2007 (second entry)
7/11/07
Train between
Salisbury and
London
5:30 PM
I took a walk in a suburb area of Salisbury near the train station just now, because after I got back from Stonehenge, I had a bit of time before the train left.
I was reflecting on my time here in Europe. The suburb I was in looked at first like any suburb I could find in the States. A few differences I'd already perceived came to mind. Things are smaller--dandelions, daisies, bumblebees & flies & ants. Nature just seems to me to be miniature here for some reason. And things were a little more authentically decorated--ivy on the brick, deep flowering hedges, that sort of thing, not the tightly-clipped gardens or store-bought yards in the States. I also recalled how people dress a little trendier in Europe.
A wider difference then occurred to me. Things aren't as planned. Suburbs happen as people built homes many, many ears ago. Things are older, they grew slower, so they aren't so precisely planned. Th awkward sprawling clone suburbs of California didn't happen here. That brought Age to mind, of course--things are a tad older here, and it lends to the authenticity of the feel of the land.
I wonder if I'm "taking it all in." I don't have anyone to share all of this with--I mean I can tell Gina, over the phone, but she isn't here and she definitely isn't at those places with me.
I've realized not very long ago how odd it is that we have a concept of "waiting." I know in a sense the concept of waiting is real enough--we wait for dinner, for a train, for a stage of life, for the opportune moment. But in a real sense I also don't think "waiting" exists. There are no periods of ceasing to exist, there are only occasionally even lapses in consciousness. We say waiting, but I wonder what that really amounts to, concerning our metaphysical state of being.
This is a big issue for me because one of the things I fear the most is waiting, particularly waiting in an unknown state. I have a 12-hour layover between New York and Denver coming up, which is currently starting to loom over my head rather ominously. Before leaving Valencia, I worried and fretted that I would have to just hang around and wait in an unknown city (that speaks a foreign language, no less) for a couple of days. I guess in both of these is an element of the unknown, but I think that's more a part of waiting than anything else.
It's not that I'm antsy & can't imagine life sitting still. So maybe the fear really does come from the unknown. But the general foreboding & dislike still come from waiting.
I don't like the waiting stage of life, waiting for marriage or a salary I can trust or success in my career or a sustainable reputation or whatever. And yet, for disliking it so much, I'm not entirely sure it's actually something that exists.
Train between
Salisbury and
London
5:30 PM
I took a walk in a suburb area of Salisbury near the train station just now, because after I got back from Stonehenge, I had a bit of time before the train left.
I was reflecting on my time here in Europe. The suburb I was in looked at first like any suburb I could find in the States. A few differences I'd already perceived came to mind. Things are smaller--dandelions, daisies, bumblebees & flies & ants. Nature just seems to me to be miniature here for some reason. And things were a little more authentically decorated--ivy on the brick, deep flowering hedges, that sort of thing, not the tightly-clipped gardens or store-bought yards in the States. I also recalled how people dress a little trendier in Europe.
A wider difference then occurred to me. Things aren't as planned. Suburbs happen as people built homes many, many ears ago. Things are older, they grew slower, so they aren't so precisely planned. Th awkward sprawling clone suburbs of California didn't happen here. That brought Age to mind, of course--things are a tad older here, and it lends to the authenticity of the feel of the land.
I wonder if I'm "taking it all in." I don't have anyone to share all of this with--I mean I can tell Gina, over the phone, but she isn't here and she definitely isn't at those places with me.
I've realized not very long ago how odd it is that we have a concept of "waiting." I know in a sense the concept of waiting is real enough--we wait for dinner, for a train, for a stage of life, for the opportune moment. But in a real sense I also don't think "waiting" exists. There are no periods of ceasing to exist, there are only occasionally even lapses in consciousness. We say waiting, but I wonder what that really amounts to, concerning our metaphysical state of being.
This is a big issue for me because one of the things I fear the most is waiting, particularly waiting in an unknown state. I have a 12-hour layover between New York and Denver coming up, which is currently starting to loom over my head rather ominously. Before leaving Valencia, I worried and fretted that I would have to just hang around and wait in an unknown city (that speaks a foreign language, no less) for a couple of days. I guess in both of these is an element of the unknown, but I think that's more a part of waiting than anything else.
It's not that I'm antsy & can't imagine life sitting still. So maybe the fear really does come from the unknown. But the general foreboding & dislike still come from waiting.
I don't like the waiting stage of life, waiting for marriage or a salary I can trust or success in my career or a sustainable reputation or whatever. And yet, for disliking it so much, I'm not entirely sure it's actually something that exists.
Wednesday, April 19
we know not what to do
she is beautiful and tragic and
she knows not what to do
with herself
and neither do i
but to sit, and watch,
and clench a fist, and sigh
she knows not what to do
with herself
and neither do i
but to sit, and watch,
and clench a fist, and sigh
Thursday, December 23
Rejection
so, this is how rejection feels...i don't think i completely disapprove.
it feels the way you think it ought to sting, perhaps just enough to make a boy a man.
and when the throbbing red pales into dullest gray--then may we know, dawn brings another day
i didn't write this poem just to make you cry...in fact i hope you never know it was to you.
it would have been a love song if Love hadn't been so dry, but i can't fault your heart for telling you the truth.
i'm wishing things were different when i know they're but the same--still i promise, as you asked me: i'll not whisper your name
well i can stand here for another thousand years;
and we can cry here another thousand tears.
nothing changes, nothing's new, yet
tomorrow is another day, another way to pose the question...
it feels the way you think it ought to sting, perhaps just enough to make a boy a man.
and when the throbbing red pales into dullest gray--then may we know, dawn brings another day
i didn't write this poem just to make you cry...in fact i hope you never know it was to you.
it would have been a love song if Love hadn't been so dry, but i can't fault your heart for telling you the truth.
i'm wishing things were different when i know they're but the same--still i promise, as you asked me: i'll not whisper your name
well i can stand here for another thousand years;
and we can cry here another thousand tears.
nothing changes, nothing's new, yet
tomorrow is another day, another way to pose the question...
December 2004
Saturday, September 4
desiring love
(possibly the first poem i ever wrote. i was 19. it's baaaaaaad.)
i tried to write a song tonight but the music didn't come, so all i'm left with now is this crummy effort at a poem.
it's not really a poem.
it's just a bunch of sentences.
but it expresses how i feel: not in one continuous strain, but in little efforts and bubbles.
there are a lot of feelings elbowing for room in me right now.
if emotions were colors i think the brilliant reds, greens, yellows, blues, and purples would all run together in a dirty shade of brown.
i'm okay with that.
girls tend to do that to my feelings--they mix them up; different girls inspire different emotions.
some girls are competetive, and that usually makes me frustrated, angry, or nervous, or all three.
some girls are attractive, but not interested in me, and that usually makes me thoughtful, sad, or desperate; usually not all three.
some girls are not attractive, but interested in me, and that usually makes me wary, sorry, or angry.
some relationships with girls have been better than they are, and that usually makes me depressed.
some girls move on from a relationship i only hoped to have, and that usually makes me sort of desperate.
some girls are just friends, but because of my reactions to all the other girls, things get sort of awkward.
i wish i didn't want to love someone.
if i were just content with where i'm at as romantic relationships go, and could simply rest confidently in some kind of relationship that i knew would always be good, then maybe i wouldn't always take things so hard.
but if i make myself content with having nothing, there's a good chance i'll never get anything.
and i really don't want that.
i don't know why i don't want it.
it's too bad i care at all; i think it must blur the rest of my vision.
if i could just live life without wanting to love someone, and then at some random point fall in love with someone who will love me back, that would be great.
but i can't deny that i do want to love someone.
and if it's a random point, then it may never come.
it is a strange thing that i must not think of it for it to appear.
i tried to write a song tonight but the music didn't come, so all i'm left with now is this crummy effort at a poem.
it's not really a poem.
it's just a bunch of sentences.
but it expresses how i feel: not in one continuous strain, but in little efforts and bubbles.
there are a lot of feelings elbowing for room in me right now.
if emotions were colors i think the brilliant reds, greens, yellows, blues, and purples would all run together in a dirty shade of brown.
i'm okay with that.
girls tend to do that to my feelings--they mix them up; different girls inspire different emotions.
some girls are competetive, and that usually makes me frustrated, angry, or nervous, or all three.
some girls are attractive, but not interested in me, and that usually makes me thoughtful, sad, or desperate; usually not all three.
some girls are not attractive, but interested in me, and that usually makes me wary, sorry, or angry.
some relationships with girls have been better than they are, and that usually makes me depressed.
some girls move on from a relationship i only hoped to have, and that usually makes me sort of desperate.
some girls are just friends, but because of my reactions to all the other girls, things get sort of awkward.
i wish i didn't want to love someone.
if i were just content with where i'm at as romantic relationships go, and could simply rest confidently in some kind of relationship that i knew would always be good, then maybe i wouldn't always take things so hard.
but if i make myself content with having nothing, there's a good chance i'll never get anything.
and i really don't want that.
i don't know why i don't want it.
it's too bad i care at all; i think it must blur the rest of my vision.
if i could just live life without wanting to love someone, and then at some random point fall in love with someone who will love me back, that would be great.
but i can't deny that i do want to love someone.
and if it's a random point, then it may never come.
it is a strange thing that i must not think of it for it to appear.
Sep 2004
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