Sunday, April 20, 2008

hey sacramento

don't be surprised if i'm back BEFORE the summer
i'm not sure i've ever been happier 

Thursday, April 17, 2008

I drank a thimble-full of fire

and i'm not ever coming back.

oh.
my.
god.


As of today, I have spent a solid week in Lincoln, living in a little hippie-esque colony.  It's been incredibly relaxing and, interestingly enough, i've been sober almost the entire time.  It's exactly what I needed to get my head back on straight. 

floating forgetfully along there is no need to be strong.
we keep our confessions long but when we pray we keep it short.

something about looking into the faces of the people who know me best, with tear-filled eyes, and having them say:
"i'm sorry christina, but i knew he wasn't the right one..."
and all the bad feelings just zipped away.
amazing.

it's crazy how one small event can make you realize you never really knew someone.
2 and half years... and you never really knew them.  somehow, even with that, it's still hard adjusting to not having them in your life.
but i'm better for it.

hopefully he will be one day to.

at least i was honest. at least i have that.
and remember.. you left me.
thank you for that.


i'm coming home sacramento.  and for the first time in my life, my pride is not getting in the way of that.  i've gotten more done here in a week than i have the entire time i've been in los angeles.
i moved for love, and i failed.  fate made my life in sacramento much more appealing at the perfect time.
who am i to argue with fate?
at least i'll never question what could have happened. 

damn. it's a good year to be 26.



i do not exist, we faithfully insist
sailing in our separate ships 
and from each tiny caravelle
tiring and trying there's unnecessary dying
like the horseshoe crab in its proper seasons sheds its shell
such distance from our friends
like a scratch across a lens,
made everything look wrong from anywhere we stood
and our paper blew away before we'd left the bay,
so half-blind we wrote these songs on sheets of salty wood

caught me making eyes at the other boatman's wives,
and heard me laughing louder at the jokes told by their daughters
i'd set my course for land,
but you well understand
it takes a steady hand to navigate adulterous waters
the propeller's spinning blades held acquaintance with the waves
as there's mistakes i've made no rowing could outrun
the cloth blowing on the mast like to say i've got no past
but i'm nonetheless the librarian and secretary's son
with tarnish on my brass and mildew on my glass,
i'd never want someone so crass as to want someone like me
but a few leagues off the shore, i bit a flashing lure
and i assure you, it was not what i expected it to be
i still taste its kiss, that dull hook in my lip
is a memory as useless as a rod without a reel
to an anchor ever-dropped, seasick yet still docked
captain spotted napping with his first mate at the wheel,
floating forgetfully along, with no need to be strong
we keep our confessions long and when we pray we keep it short

i drank a thimble full of fire and i'm not ever coming back.

oh my god.

i do not exist we faithfully insist
while watching sink the heavy ship of everything we knew


goodbye brandon.  goodbye forever.