vanilla raindrops

email: noreia@planet-save.com.

This is my blogchalk:
United States, California, sometimes Steiermark, Austria, something bored teenagers say when they speak useless words into brick walls of cotton candy, English, German, Noreia,creative writing, fiction, reading, college student, strange, cat power, mogwai, arap strap, dresden dolls, white oleander, the earth, my butt, and other big, round things, welcome to the dollhouse, fuckers.

body jewelry by bodyPUNKS!

body jewelry by bodyPUNKS!

body jewelry by BodyPUNKS!

 

 

 

 

 

and through the open window,
i think that the singing went outside
and floated up to tell all the
stars not to hide
'cause by the time church let out
the sky was much clearer
and the moon was so beautiful
that the ocean held up a mirror
-- ani d.

i dreamt that we left her here, and i cried this morning. strange dreams, and they change the mood of the day, they underlie waking life. i was afraid today would be dry and the fear would be looming. but these phases creep out of nowhere now, faster than maybe ever, day by day it's so different. today is ani difranco, but in a different way than yesterday and the day before. today is this song, this vanilla-scented candle on its stand, this long rust-colored sweater and black boots i haven't worn in ages. i'm eating cherries because they're all i can think of to eat that doesn't make me sick. and i cried again at the beauty of this song.

i want to crawl into the softness of black tea with milk and cloves and vanilla and cinnamon and nutmeg, of this mellow guitar that says, "everything's going to be okay." the softness that reminds me of being fourteen and discovering the first hints of a spiritual life. living in that peace-state, where everyone was equal and worthy of love, where everything was beautiful, everyone was so sad but so full of worth and meaning. and it reminds me of later, the fall after graduation, riding in ian's car under orange and brown leaves speckled with sunlight. ani was then, too, and this sweater, and that field trip i "chaperoned" with the french club to see "the little prince," and white oleander and my hair like this. walking around in emeryville's plaza with katie and her unique, artsy friends, drinking iced mocha with whip, the giant borders bookstore. feeling like i was safe for the time being, that i had to deal with nothing but that beautiful autumn, going for walks down quiet windy streets with rachel.

"from the depth of the pacific to the height of everest

and still the world is smoother than a shiny ball-bearing

so i take a few steps back and put on a wider lens

and it changes your skin and your sex and what you're wearing

distance shows your silhouette to be

a lot like mine

like a sphere is a sphere and all that's here

has been here all the time . . ."

i don't like that tomorrow all this may be gone. this feeling, this smoothness and soft light. the cherries and everest and the coldness of this may morning, crisp and grey and wintry, the grey cat's purr. gone and replaced by something less beautiful, less comforting. i don't like that when it's gone, i may not miss it. i may not even want to think about it.

but for now i love the golden and brown, words on a coffee shop wall. pigeons and windy trees, the hint of sadness behind beauty and comfort in this song, which i just want to sink into and listen to over and over and over. don't take this away from me yet. i think i could be okay with everything if only this feeling would last.

from the height of the pacific to the depths of everest

from the height of the pacific to the depths of everest

 

 

 

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Posted by: noreia at 10:44 | link | comments (9) |