new beginnings

so this is where we begin again.

all my life, i don't know what this means. how to do this. where to go from here. i want to be one of those people in the crowd on the sidewalk, moving forward down the street with a blue cloud of cold air escaping all around me. since i was fourteen, this is all i ever wanted.

okay, so maybe that isn't true. but that's where i always figured it would start. my real life, i mean. on that sidewalk, in that city. with the cold air, and too many people, and the hum of the underground trains buzzing between my bones. i have to get there! i have to. i am wilting here. angry, in a silent way. i am wilting, stuck in this city.

this city is dangerous, and here is why:
the curve in the road on west river parkway. especially at night, when the moon is big.
the ease of settling.
small, cluttered yoga (physically)
a lack of establishments resembling: genna's. himal. nachtspiel. the terrace. montmarte.
and, a severe case of writer's block.

i am bored, and mulling, and growing rather numb. will an exodus help me to escape what i have become? i don't like who i am anymore; i am dull inside my own skin. even my taste in music seems to have gone to pot. what i wouldn't give for a little...just to hear a few symphonies emanate from the ordinary, you know what i mean? it's like i'm on mute or something. i can hardly breathe the world is so quiet. what i wouldn't give for a little crack in the planet.

things that are still the same
only skin & emily [ j. newsom]
my person and our lovely 60 [thank god]
a penchant for black clothes, black cloves, black russians, blue soul.

things that are different
everyone else.
driving at night.
me.