snowy atlas mountains

post script: falling hard for this song (listen to snowy atlas mountains)

I don't know if you notice anything

tonight it's chocolate stout beer and guitar picking and i'm so far away. it's cumin and i'm staring at a city that winks and puddlejumps and waves goodbye as it pirouettes mid-air. it's so easy here, all the moving sidewalks and free samples of sushi and the salsa dancing on every corner. it would be so easy to say i can't do this and hide myself in the snow and the dirt and the corners of billiard halls where my white tank top is yellow with dust by the time the sun comes up. but tonight, it's middlesex by jeffrey eugenides and letters to everyone i know in my head and so much space everywhere. i revel in it, and i'm sorry.

learning loneliness

Today has been spent in flannel, waiting for snow, finishing "Gilead," which I lovedlovedloved. The prose is so lonely and it makes me, as so many things do, want to tunnel myself away from this world, far away from the facebook message sent to me asking if I got the e-mail about getting the phone call they made three minutes ago. It's cliche to teeter on existential edges, but despite the glorious Nepalese restaurants and the conversation over wine in Jackson Heights and jazz clubs in Harlem, I find myself gravitating toward that old need for all that is lonely: the mountains, the motel based in the harsh glare of neon lights, the corner in a bar in New Mexico where you wonder just how much hope oozes out from the heavily bearded clientele and makes its way to the green linoleum floor.