Monday, February 2, 2009

Beached Mermaids

Its been a week since I've returned from the beautiful land of San Francisco and I still haven't unpacked all of the stuff I brought back with me. This stuff, my life in pictures, books, clothing, music and journals, and it all fit in the back seat of a Scion xa. Now its in the bedroom looming against a wall daring me to find room for it all in an already crowded apartment, and tempting me ever so subtly, to take a look. I've avoided it, not only because rearranging this apartment doesn't sound like fun but also because I left that stuff behind specifically to get away from it.

When I fled San Francisco in June, I had only as much clothes as I could take with me, one book and one newly broken in journal. Everything else I organized neatly underneath a staircase, in the cold garage of a very pink house in the Sunset distract. I just didn't want that stuff around, distracting me from a boyfriend I'd hurt time and again by fleeing to other worlds both real and imagined. I just wanted to be with him, free from... me. And I know its just stuff, but it has an energy all its own and a good six hundred miles and seven months was I hope distance and time enough for this forced catharsis to ensue. Did it?

Even now at the computer I feel its presence, beckoning me. Rifle through these photos. Tear the newspaper off that Art. Read that old writing. I want to, I do, I even want to post some old stuff on here, but I get this feeling in my stomach when I think of it, like I'm meeting up for coffee with an ex who wants closure... oh God.

I'm and old romantic I know, and flirting with ghosts of the past is one of my favorite pass times. But it seems all these entities do is bitch about shit that doesn't really matter anymore and I don't really feel like doing that. I'm having a good time just chillin with the present anyway. I think soon enough here, I'll even be ready to see what the future has been hiding from me this whole time.

And when I do finally get to this stuff, I hope that that's all it will be.

Just stuff.


  1. so? it's just stuff now isn't it? you're not just a writer, you're a poet! i can't wait to see what the future has been hiding from me this whole time either.... :)