17 January 2003 - 12:44 pm
a black ocean wears away the shore of me.

bits of crimson float in the coffee mug. she's coughed once a bit too much and delicately dabs the corner of her lips with a very clean white napkin. it seems almost ludicrous, really, but she'd fallen in love with a man she would never have expected to.

//

i just watched a trailer for "down with love" starring renee zellweger and ewan mcgregor. it looks great. despite slightly fluffy and the fact that i've just now woken up, i'm sure it's predictable. bang bang.

was drinking hot chocolate and aspirin this morning at 5am when my eyes were so heavy they could have fallen out of their sockets and hit the desk with two brick-like thuds. on impact they would have crumbled away into red dust, or perhaps blue dust, because all eyes are solidified tears and when we cry they are eroding themselves ...

i keep sniffling. i hope i'm not coming down with anything, although the fact that i haven't been eating very much in the past few days, nor sleeping very well, is a good indication of my well-being. i hate being sick because up here, there's no one who really, ultimately cares. it's not like being at home when your parent (likely mother) will lay you down or make soup. i couldn't eat soup now anyway because all i taste is the salt. when i used to be sick as a kid i would curl up on the couch and pull the brown afghan over me. i think the next time i go home i'm going to ask if i can bring that afghan back with me. i miss it. and i'm not sure why.

anyway. it's bitterly cold out. welcome to maine, i guess. it's that internally-piercing cold that i'm rather afraid of. it's when you're walking and you shiver from the inside out instead of the outside-in. mark said ; "well, you don't eat well, and you hardly sleep. it's no wonder you're cold - you're a skeleton!" and i look at myself and i see ... well, nothing. a pale washed-over part of a painting that escaped just before the turpentine hit it. but i should go shower. and find something to eat. or drink. my lips feel funny and the back of my throat is ragged. but i'm not sick yet. i have a feeling it's all the dust in this room. i should give it a thorough cleaning ...

when i have the energy to. if i'm not running out of breath every time i do something, in direct correlation. i believe that i'm quite possibly wasting away.

this should be rectified.

more later.

later : (no it shouldn't.)

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