Only A Block

I want to start by taking a little bit of my last blog and expanding.



so *paste



convivial \kuhn-VIV-ee-uhl\, adjective:

Relating to, occupied with, or fond of feasting, drinking, and good company; merry; festive.



I find it hard to leave my frown and gallop with the convivial. In fact, the brighter the smiles get, it seems my frown grows to compensate. Maybe I was meant to be a watch dog. Call me Watch Dog if you like. I was meant to be sober, to check the meter, be the designated driver.



In fact I feel like I am opposite to convivial.

searching... searching...antonym



tac·i·turn–adjective
1.
inclined to silence; reserved in speech; reluctant to join in conversation.
2.
dour, stern, and silent in expression and manner.





Free time + anaesthesia= a romantic novel.

I am beginning to feel like a romantic novel. Not romantic romantic, girl, boy, love love, but romantic tragedy, nathaniel hawthorne romanticism.










Pushed from every side, four sides to be exact, plus a top and a bottom, he is suffering the square. It is transparent and quite often mistaken to be any specific object. Such as an apple or a pencil, or a dinner table, even a small child. But the square is the square; it is a block.

He overturned all of the chairs and charged a small pink candle containing a small dreamy flame. Hot pink! Drooping and swooping off the white, off white wall! And a whisper: no, 'tis the block dear boy.
All day people ask him questions, the people that are around the house of course (for he does not go out of the house). He always replies with "Sure," or "Very well." Never stomaching even the most exciting situations, never showing any care. And why should he? There are dozens of unfinished paintings strung out across every room, out of tune instruments bearing unfinished songs. Sixty-four unanswered messages on his cell phone (the one that looks like a house phone according to the rest of America). Sixty-four people called one time to invite him to one event, sixty-four events. Sixty-four glimpses out the window.


Sixty-four glimpses out the window! As he refuses to remove a hair caught in his lip, so he refuses to return the calls. No, he only falls onto his bed backwards and scratches at the nearest instrument with a full stomach. He will scratch and then scrape and then strangle and slap against the wall.

No, no, dear boy, only the block.



It's okay if you didn't understand that, I think I needed to get it out.





oh, and to take the idea from my cous Annie, leave your email if you want to be added to a post update email list!

Summer

"I need a spoon to breathe out here."



I spoke that and now have typed it down [like a feather set to rest on wet tar] about the humid air of Georgia, though I mean it in many different ways. We (my brother, mother and I) were discussing what I would do when I grew up, what I would mark on the walking stick of mankind. Using the imagery of a spoon was perfect as I have had the lyrics "It takes a spoon full of sugar to make the medicine go down..." in my head for the past three days and how a spoon has always felt nicest, kindest, that is, in my hand as opposed to knife or fork.



I have felt quite tender for the past three days due to the surgical operation in which my wisdom was removed, the minimal sunlight since, and the case of a full stomach more than often. All of which has led me up to today and the crisis of "needing to breathe."



I don't believe I ever want to own a lawn of my own.

I don't believe I ever want to "make a living." Or lead a career.

"I don't trust careers. I believe in hard work. And I trust God."


Though I am somewhat scared that God will set me on the bottom shelf to collect dust with the vegetables while the rest of the world is out making a name for history's sake. I'm just here trusting and dreaming and sometimes even praying. I should definitely pray more. I see it this way: God is a person that just happens to have said "ask for whatever thing and it will be given to you in my name." I just need ask.

"you're only seventeen once. and this is your summer. "
summer, pivotal though it may be with changes that can and will completely wipe you out like a wave over a three year old, is to be collected and fondled like a blackberry or a honey suckle and smeared into your embarrassing and unpopular 'farmer's tan.' It is to become gritty on top of your unwashed hair and to smell like watermelon. Bask bask bask it like twine holding hands with a kite. Bask it I say! Basket! and blanket to send like a letter to an old friend through the wind, over the little forest and the giant white fences, somewhere too far to name, past the Himalayas, straight into the heart of the earth bursting with the sound track of Sigur Ros' Saeglopur. And you are to return to the civilized world with it crusted in the corner of your eyes, your vibrant green eyes. So real.

convivial \kuhn-VIV-ee-uhl\, adjective:
Relating to, occupied with, or fond of feasting, drinking, and good company; merry; festive.


I find it hard to leave my frown and gallop with the convivial. In fact, the brighter the smiles get, it seems my frown grows to compensate. Maybe I was meant to be a watch dog. Call me Watch Dog if you like. I was meant to be sober, to check the meter, be the designated driver. ?