sorry the previous entry was so vague. I decided that copying part of a conversation would be easier than re-writing it, so for all who are not aware, this is the explanantion:
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: aHHHH
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: what happenenenedned
KALYHU: ?
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: sad post in ur blog!
KALYHU: haha- yeah
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: :-(
KALYHU: bittersweet i would say
KALYHU: jason and i broke up that day...had i not told you?
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: nope
KALYHU: oops, sorry
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: u told me about how the trip to austin would reveal that though
KALYHU: yeah, well he ended up coming down here
KALYHU: it was good though
KALYHU: we were both at the same place by that point
KALYHU: it was hard for both of us, bc we still care about each other alot
KALYHU: there's no bitterness or anger or anything btween us
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: beautiful break up
KALYHU: we just knew it was the right thing to do
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: thats how they all should be
KALYHU: it really was beautiful
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: nice and clean
KALYHU: our breakup was indicative of our relationship
KALYHU: we just held each others hands on the couch, faced each other and each told the other one how amazing they were
KALYHU: how much we had learned
KALYHU: and how wonderful it had been
KALYHU: we never even had to say the breakup words
KALYHU: it was just understood
KALYHU: so after tears from both sides
KALYHU: he kissed me
KALYHU: and left
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: but i wonder if that was the real end
KALYHU: not the end of our friendship
KALYHU: but the end of our romantic relationship, yes
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: yea i know that, but ending it with a kiss leaves an opening for a sequal
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: well to me anyway
KALYHU: yeah, i just don't see it happening
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: maybe ive seen too many movies
KALYHU: probably
KALYHU: i think the kiss meant more than one thing, to both of us- it was sealing our feelings, and also sealing the ending while giving us both one last taste of what had been
KALYHU: if that makes sense
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: awww
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: awww²
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: thats too good
KALYHU: haha
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: i need to like write that down
KALYHU: it is really movie like isn't it
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: hahah
JuStIfIeDMiStAkE: novel-like
...
6.19.2004
6.13.2004
Tonight I can Write...
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Escribir, por ejemplo: 'La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.'
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo lo quise, y a veces el también me quiso.
En las noches como ésta lo tuve entre mis brazos.
Lo besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.
El me quiso, a veces yo también lo quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no lo tengo. Sentir que lo he perdido.
Oir la noche inmensa, más inmnesa sin el.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.
Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guadarlo.
La noche está estrellada y el no está conmigo.
Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberlo perdido.
Como para acercarlo mi mirada lo busca.
Mi corazón lo busca, y el no está conmigo.
La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.
Ya no lo quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto lo quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.
De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.
Ya no lo quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez lo quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.
Porque en noches como ésta lo tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberlo perdido.
Aunque éste sea el último dolor que el me causa,
y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.
~Pablo Neruda (adapted)
Tonight I can write the saddest lines...
To hear the immense night, still more immense without him
the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture...
But I am ok. Nostalgic, sad, but at peace.
I could never thank you enough for being in my life, so I won't try.
Escribir, por ejemplo: 'La noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.'
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Yo lo quise, y a veces el también me quiso.
En las noches como ésta lo tuve entre mis brazos.
Lo besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.
El me quiso, a veces yo también lo quería.
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no lo tengo. Sentir que lo he perdido.
Oir la noche inmensa, más inmnesa sin el.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.
Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guadarlo.
La noche está estrellada y el no está conmigo.
Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberlo perdido.
Como para acercarlo mi mirada lo busca.
Mi corazón lo busca, y el no está conmigo.
La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.
Ya no lo quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto lo quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.
De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.
Ya no lo quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez lo quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.
Porque en noches como ésta lo tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberlo perdido.
Aunque éste sea el último dolor que el me causa,
y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.
~Pablo Neruda (adapted)
Tonight I can write the saddest lines...
To hear the immense night, still more immense without him
the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture...
But I am ok. Nostalgic, sad, but at peace.
I could never thank you enough for being in my life, so I won't try.
6.06.2004
a poodle named princess...perfect
While I may not have found a real job yet, I certainly am hooked up with a nice fake job for a few days. House-sitting is a fantastic deal. Especially when it is for your neighbors across the street: one essentially reaps all the benefits of having an entire house to oneself while all the amenities of one's actual home lay close at hand. Can't beat it. Well, I could beat it one way- by killing the dog.
There is a certain perfidious poodle that goes along with the house which somewhat hinders the glorious setup. Now do not jump to horrible conclusions about my peaceful nature- killing the dog wouldn't be nearly as bad as it sounds. The dog is probably about 160 years old (and I mean in human years mind you), so the senile canine really needs to be put out of its misery. Consider it more of euthanasia than killing. This dog has perhaps 60-90 minutes of wakefulness every day, which doesn't sound so bad for the dog-sitter, except for the fact that these minutes are inevitably taken somewhere in between 2 and 5 in the morning. The dog sleeps intensely ALL DAY and cannot be stirred except for an occasional bathroom break, but then magically wakes up by using some special sixth sense that lets it know when I have just fallen asleep. Since it sleeps on a pad in the same room as I do (it's name is princess, after all), I am awakened with a sharp "i need to pee...haha I woke you up yet again...I live to torture you" sort of bark. So I submit to the dog because I prefer not to deal with doggie doo doo, and I let her outside. She then trots back in and spends all the energy that 23 hours of sleep has given her on the unrelenting pursuit of rubbing her head noisily in her dog bed while her tags cheerfully jingle. Her pad is next to my bed I will remind you. This playfulness is accompanied by loud wheezing, attributed to the fact that she has lived longer than most of the old-testament characters ever did.
Also, I can't leave the dog outside late at night (the time when I am generally gone of course) because she barks incessantly and the neigbors get a bit ticked, so I usually leave her in the garage or in the house if I am not going to be gone too long. The other night I left her in the garage for about five hours, and was of course worried sick that she had done her nasty excretion business all over the place. I shared my worries with the guys I was hanging out with, and got great advice: such as, "just rub it in...it might pass for oil stains" etc. This increased my dread. I returned home, and walked towards the garage door with the funeral march playing somewhere in the distance, only to find that I had been spared, and nothing wet or brown was on the garage floor. Much relieved, I really liked the dog for a while (until I fell asleep, that is). So excited was I about my fortune, that I loudly excalimed " the dog didn't poop!" to each of my friends immediately when I saw them at church the next morning. This was much to the dismay of the pious elders passing by who undoubtedly mistake solemn and religious to be the same word. But oh well, I had to share the good news.
So that day, I left the dog sleeping and went to my other residence across the street where the one of the aforementioned amenities (mom) had cooked a nice meal. It was a pleasant, worry-free hour, seeing as that it was daytime, and the nocturnal dog was assuredly sleeping.
I found the pee spot on the carpet when I returned.
Perfect.
So in my sleep-deprived stupor I have come to the point when I must chant the only mantra that gets me through it all..."I am getting paid for this, I must keep her alive, I am getting paid for this..."
After all, in theory it is a good fake job.
There is a certain perfidious poodle that goes along with the house which somewhat hinders the glorious setup. Now do not jump to horrible conclusions about my peaceful nature- killing the dog wouldn't be nearly as bad as it sounds. The dog is probably about 160 years old (and I mean in human years mind you), so the senile canine really needs to be put out of its misery. Consider it more of euthanasia than killing. This dog has perhaps 60-90 minutes of wakefulness every day, which doesn't sound so bad for the dog-sitter, except for the fact that these minutes are inevitably taken somewhere in between 2 and 5 in the morning. The dog sleeps intensely ALL DAY and cannot be stirred except for an occasional bathroom break, but then magically wakes up by using some special sixth sense that lets it know when I have just fallen asleep. Since it sleeps on a pad in the same room as I do (it's name is princess, after all), I am awakened with a sharp "i need to pee...haha I woke you up yet again...I live to torture you" sort of bark. So I submit to the dog because I prefer not to deal with doggie doo doo, and I let her outside. She then trots back in and spends all the energy that 23 hours of sleep has given her on the unrelenting pursuit of rubbing her head noisily in her dog bed while her tags cheerfully jingle. Her pad is next to my bed I will remind you. This playfulness is accompanied by loud wheezing, attributed to the fact that she has lived longer than most of the old-testament characters ever did.
Also, I can't leave the dog outside late at night (the time when I am generally gone of course) because she barks incessantly and the neigbors get a bit ticked, so I usually leave her in the garage or in the house if I am not going to be gone too long. The other night I left her in the garage for about five hours, and was of course worried sick that she had done her nasty excretion business all over the place. I shared my worries with the guys I was hanging out with, and got great advice: such as, "just rub it in...it might pass for oil stains" etc. This increased my dread. I returned home, and walked towards the garage door with the funeral march playing somewhere in the distance, only to find that I had been spared, and nothing wet or brown was on the garage floor. Much relieved, I really liked the dog for a while (until I fell asleep, that is). So excited was I about my fortune, that I loudly excalimed " the dog didn't poop!" to each of my friends immediately when I saw them at church the next morning. This was much to the dismay of the pious elders passing by who undoubtedly mistake solemn and religious to be the same word. But oh well, I had to share the good news.
So that day, I left the dog sleeping and went to my other residence across the street where the one of the aforementioned amenities (mom) had cooked a nice meal. It was a pleasant, worry-free hour, seeing as that it was daytime, and the nocturnal dog was assuredly sleeping.
I found the pee spot on the carpet when I returned.
Perfect.
So in my sleep-deprived stupor I have come to the point when I must chant the only mantra that gets me through it all..."I am getting paid for this, I must keep her alive, I am getting paid for this..."
After all, in theory it is a good fake job.
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