novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- an eleven year old windstorm NEW and OLD are relative concepts, just like time. i never remember my dreams anymore, i just wake up with sore shoulders and neck, twisted and still sleeping in patches. i wore my hair in pigtails today, a hairstyle that faired well against the wind, just bits flying about at my temples while walking back to the apartment. i looked up at my old window and saw new curtains but the same old lampshade. the one i put in. i wonder if they know that, my new neighbors who live in my old apartment, the people with the constantly-frightened toy poodle named fluffy. i wonder if they can look at certain incisions in the walls and tell what pictures hung where. what i fixed and what i left behind badly patched. my hair is finally the same length it was when i was thirteen and extremely frustrated by the elements and their impact on having long hair. i think it was around this time, eleven years ago, that i cut over eight inches off and dyed my whole head red. 10:12 pm - 03.13.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||