A Portrait of Walter

Walter is married. I like that.
I also like his hair, almost entirely white, but boyish in the way it sweeps to the right and lays flat (ish) against his head. And his eyebrows, bushy almost beyond belief. Walter works. Works hard, I imagine. His blue jacket adds to the illusion of youth, but the lines of his face betray him. Asian and wise. Maybe his family descends from royalty and here he is working on this damn mountain. Looking a little tired and a little lonely, as he rides this bumpy bus home from work. Saturday afternoons should be for Walters.

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thru my lense: Solitude

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hilltop house and H,
it was only lonely
from a distance

up there i was anything
but alone
i was Miss California

and H, the judge and jury
i won,
but world peace wasn’t found

and the wind was wing-man
and i beautiful
and H innocent

even when i took my clothes off
in a lower level room
where someone else left theirs

lines from our lives were told
and still i covered certain lines
then we ran from the police

but maybe that last line
was only in my head.
what would have happened?

with many more minutes
with H’s hilltop house
with wind’s billowing breath

and life isn’t
always always about alliteration
(yes, i meant to type it twice)

 

*Note: I totally failed as far as the photography aspect of this, but the day was absolutely amazing and I wanted to write about it. I took this picture right after I got off the bus today; I told myself I would take a better one on the hike up, I forgot; I told myself I would take a better one at the top, I forgot; I told myself I would take a better one on the hike down, I forgot. I was too busy enjoying an amazing day with an amazing person to focus on taking an amazing photograph. But H did take a couple up top, so we do have photographic evidence of the day. It happened.

Saturdays are Good for Somethings

I’m in love with C. That sucks. I don’t know if he’s ever gonna come around again, but if he does I’ve worked it out in my head how to stay just friends. If he never comes around, I’ll be okay, I’ll miss him, but I’ll be okay. I’ve learned how to let go and recover, I might cry a little, I’ll write poems about him, maybe I’ll always love him with a little piece of my heart, but I’ll always love him, I know this. I hope he’s doing okay. I deleted him from my phone because I didn’t want to risk saying stupid things to him. He needs time to heal and maybe he doesn’t know how to be friends with a girl he’s into, and maybe he’s into me too, maybe. I don’t know if I’m right, but I think C picks a certain kind of girl, and he thought I was that sort of girl, but I am not. This thought brought forth a line:

Maybe damsels in distress who can’t won’t save themselves shouldn’t be rescued at all.

I had a great day today. I hung out with H. Coffee, bookstore, sushi and saki. It was really great. H is weird, excuse me, creative. We were going to get Pink Ladies at Starbucks, they were all out, H was devastated. We got white mochas instead, his hot mine iced. He’s reading Almost Home by Jessica Blank, I’m reading Me Before You. I gave H Blue Like Jazz. H bought 5 books, I bought 3. H claims he’s not very bookish, yet he ended up with like 10 books in the backseat of his car. I got Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote (who apparently also wrote a book called In Cold Blood, which the bookstore lady described as a rather graphic crime story), Animal Farm by George Orwell, and The Taming of the Shrew (the No Fear Shakespeare edition). I don’t remember all of the books H got, but it seemed like a pretty good selection. I almost walked out with Message in a Bottle (Nicholas Sparks), but put it down in favor of picking something with more depth and street cred, hence my three final choices. H went pee in the bookstore, in the restroom of course. He texted me from in there – “It’s good to use the restroom here”. Apparently the bookstore has an amazing facility – the walls are wallpapered with book pages, it is beautiful. H treated me to sushi. I actually managed to kind of sort of use chopsticks okay. And I tried saki for the first time, not a fan.

After, I took the bus to my brother’s house and hung out with my family. That was really great too. I love my family. They are so weird, I mean, creative. I laughed so hard. I spent some time looking after my three little nieces, they are all so precious. Everyone said they were glad I came. My family hasn’t always liked me, they used to think I was stuck-up. I don’t think they think that anymore. We talked about taking over this town as a family. We’d have a coffee/burger joint, a bed and breakfast, a tow service, and I think an auto restoration service was thrown in there too.

And I decided I’m going to splurge on bookshelves for myself next month. Sometimes I refuse to spend money on myself, but this time I logicked this out and it makes sense to buy the bookshelves. I have tons of books, I have no intention of getting rid of any books (except occasionally giving one away to a friend, and then I’ll probably buy myself another copy of the book), I buy new books often (this week I got 10 total, I think, and I should be getting one more in the mail on Monday), books enrich my life, books widen my vocabulary, books help me process difficult parts of life, books are important to me beyond description. So my books should have a lovely place to call home.

Every Moment

Angry songs and loud passengers.
Another Saturday to live.
But it’s all beautiful today.
The cute bus driver with the tattoos,
I wonder how his story goes.

Sidewalk chalk and diecast cars,
little shirts to tie dye,
tote bags with favorite characters.
Shopping for little things and little ones.

Movies by myself.
No outside food or drink.
Are you really gonna bust me
for my sweet tea?

A mother’s love.
Crying alone in the dark.
Misplaced faith
and how we find it again.