:: Wednesday, January 29, 2003 ::

Fresh Air & A New Obsession... (and a poem)

Yesterday was so fantastic... despite a distinct lack of completed homework. Some friends and I went down to play on the beach, and I took two more rolls of film. Photographing that beach (and everything else) is going to be a new and expensive obsession. I don't care though. I got the photos back today and it's so interesting to see which pictures worked out, which went wrong, and why they all turned out the way they did. I wish I could post them on here but between a lack of time and a lack of scanner that will be a back-burner sort of project.

Aside from the photos, the beach was priceless. The air is such a shock compared to the recycled business I sit here breathing all day long. We stayed down there for hours searching for perfect stones like little kids... it was such a throwback to my favourite childhood memory (remember the poem I wrote about it? It's in the archives somewhere...) The funny thing about those stones is that they're only perfect in context. The minute you pick them up they lose their glow. A perfect shiny stone soon begins to dry, ends up a dull little lump in your hand, and leaves you wondering where the beauty disappeared to. You just can't take it with you.

That's what I like about it... you can replicate a lot of things indoors, but there's some things you just can't capture. That's one of them. The beach won't come to you. You have to get your lazy ass down there.

In other news, I've done some revision, and I've decided to post the poem again. I still don't know if it says what I want it to, but I guess your responses will let me know.

MAYBE I COULD

people always crave something more
more explosive, more orgasmic, more enigmatic
a more tangible nakedness

maybe I could too
I could spend hours exploring the width and length of you
maybe I could document you
your textures, your scars, your extremities

and maybe I could let you do the same

and when we were through
maybe I could light a cigarette
and inhale deeply while I organize the evidence
and then maybe I could exhale

maybe I could take just the awkwardness and fumbling
maybe I could take just self-conciousness and second-guessing
but maybe I just want something more

more than explosive, more than orgasmic, more than enigmatic
something more intangible:
your evolving expression
your raging train of thought
your eyes when you look at me

unafraid to let my belly appear distended in your presence
I hunger for the thought of you

I'd be interested to hear what you guys think...


listening: Paul Simon - Graceland
reading: Haroun & The Sea of Stories - Salman Rushdie
watching: nada

:: Katy 4:52 p.m. [+] :: ::