rage, dissipating

Disjointed thoughts.

he weather is ominous tonight—warm, cloudy… after a blood-red sunrise.

Yesterday I saw an elderly couple taking a walk in the park. They cut across the tennis courts; the man walked with the aid of a walker, the wheeled kind that have a little bench built onto them. The lady seemed more steady on her feet, but she held onto his arm anyway. Halfway across the tennis courts, the stopped. I glanced over to see if everything was ok, and the man was helping his lady onto the seat of his walker. She sat, facing him, her legs dangling, and he proceeded to walk, pushing her... and I could hear them giggling.

Rage-disippated

Another late night home, no chance to focus on anything but baby. Shit builds up in my head after a while, then one little thing will tip the scales. The mess that builds up behind my back finally breaks something in me. I have to get out get away leave. But I can’t leave my baby. I can't shut myself in my room and blast metallica or stabbing westward, or sabbath. I can’t take my anger out on anything, I cant yell, can’t swear, can’t scream, cry, throw shit… I have to be there, smiling, for my baby. So we go out, I take a drive. Find release in going 20km over the speed limit, drive to a store, leave the baby food to crust up on the bib that I left on the stove, leave the dirty wet face cloth smeared with pureed yams on the highchair. Just leave it all and go to a store, go be around people, even if I ignore them. Buy something. Doesn’t have to be for me. Tonight I blew 50 bucks on toys for my baby, and it felt good. I haven’t bought her anything since christmas.

then i carry on--play a mix of tomek's mp3s on the computer, dance with lily to some techno, hoist her into my lap and write around her as the thoughts come to me.

i wonder how good those nights of vodka and techno really were. there were only a handful, but now they seem so far gone.

bob marley: burn one down

i like jamaican music. i dont know if he's jamaican... i can't stand rap, but his stuff is nice. soothing.

i think i cna really play with lily now--she was crawling toward me and i was on my tummy in front of her, i kept backing away a little bit and she kept crawling towards me giggling, and then i went for her, tickled her tummy and she shrieked and tipped over. it was awesome. :)

i love how she wraps her right arm under and aroudn my right arms while i'm typing and then sucks her thumb leaning against my right arm.

tonioght is a night where it feels like everything needs to be recorded. i wonder why that is. maybe the blood-red sunrise.

Why I write—to not forget, always lists everywhere, day planner, blog, I guess I write not to forget any day-to-day things and also little things in my life, day to day emotions etc.

and it's pretty sad to think that the only reason for my sudden boost of good feeling is because i know that tomek is finally on his way home.

Want to do something nice for me? Take me to a bookstore. Let me browse around. I don’t need to buy anything. Just give me that time, come with me, lets look at books in the kids’ section, let me look at poetry books, griffin & sabine… steve berry…

Is it hypocritical that I haven’t read the majority of the books I own? I’ve perused them.—that's what I do with poetry books.. I flip them open and read a bit, have a little taste, then I’m done for that time.

I used to wish I could eat words instead of food. Lick the pages—the better the book, the more nutritious it was.

Ever post a blog with a certain person in mind? I do.