Partial To Paper.
blue line/clinton
Bus 2301
John Updike died today.
Nervousness is spreading through me like a plague. Strange. I’m not completely sure what it’s for. Listening to music on the train is pointless. The clinky clacking of metal and that distinct voice overhead is a lot to compete with. Not to mention the people trying to talk over everything.
I’ve been planning on doing something bigger. Either work on transferring the previous notebooks or writing something on a larger scale.
My ideal idea?
was to write about Chicago. Just everything I know so far-my perspective this far. This would really only be for myself, so I can compare/contrast with any writing I do in a couple years.
I can’t write as fast during winter, my hands won’t move as quickly as I’d like them to.
It’s so strange when I’ll meet someone from out of state, or even out of the suburbs because they have completely different takes on the city. I guess everyone does really.
Break was enjoyable.
Nights have been meshing together. What day is it again? Tuesday. Start from today and work backwards. Yesterday- First day of spring classes.
I managed to miss all but one of them. Ha one class. Same teacher as last semester, I overslept due to staying up till 6:30am and th— wait a minute. Im not going to explain myself to myself. More importantly I got some serious movie watching in. Re-watched Old Boy, which was a wonderful choice. The music and oddness of the whole thing makes it all the more better.
“When you laugh the world laughs with you
When you weep you weep alone.”
Matt ended up picking me up, ultimately detaching me from the couch. Chelsea, Chris, Old Style, Apartment. Surrounded by people I know, but nervous. That feeling again.
Holy crap my stop snuck up on me. Cut short, but I do have the ride home.
11:44pm
blueline/logan square
3091
Waiting for the blue line at Logan Square kills me.
That feeling of the platform kills me.
Everything’s dripping. That stone scattered motif flooring.
One night Chelsea, Matt and I sat and looked at all the stones in the cement. All completely different and interesting looking but it is so goddamn nasty down there- you can barely make out the shapes.
Jump the turnstyle.
Drink beers close to the tracks,
Smoke cigarettes underground.
There’s never an attendant past midnight.
Jan 28, 2009- 10:59am
It’s back again.
Nervous.
Why am I nervous? I have absolutely nothing to be nervous about, but i’m still getting this odd feeling- like a prom date.
Which isn’t very accurate.
“Like a prom date” paints a picture in most everyone’s head that it is someone working to impress, feeling a bit self conscious, but at the same time with a head full of high hopes.
This nervous gorgeous mess.
When in all reality it is nothing like this. Maybe it’s because the asking isn’t a mystery anymore. Half the time you’re with someone you already are dating, the other half it’s with someone you are friends with. That’s how mine went at least. Two with people I was dating, then one with a friend. More of a “Hey, we’re friends and you have nothing to do tonight. Help me out” kind of situation. Not that I was desperate- just that I wasn’t about to drag my 22 year old boyfriend at the time into a senior prom.
Why am I not writing in my notebook?
I hate rewriting but my thoughts need to not be scattered everywhere these days.
It’s getting old.
I’m getting old.
Not so much in age, but I feel as though I’ve lived more than one life the past couple years, making me feel somewhere in my 30’s.
Okay im over doing it but you get the point.
I’m hopelessly addicted to solitaire.
Yes, I am admitting this.
When the guy across from me on the train started playing on his laptop last week, I had a gut reaction to dash over and snap it up from his lap. (Which I held back from, thankfully)
Like a recovering alcoholic.
SPA
Solitaire players anonymous.11:44pm
blueline/logan square
3091
Waiting for the blue line at Logan Square kills me.
That feeling of the platform kills me.
Everything’s dripping. That stone scattered motif flooring.
One night Chelsea, Matt and I sat and looked at all the stones in the cement. All completely different and interesting looking but it is so goddamn nasty down there- you can barely make out the shapes.
Jump the turnstyle.
Drink beers close to the tracks,
Smoke cigarettes underground.
There’s never an attendant past midnight.
Jan 28, 2009- 10:59am
It’s back again.
Nervous.
Why am I nervous? I have absolutely nothing to be nervous about, but i’m still getting this odd feeling- like a prom date.
Which isn’t very accurate.
“Like a prom date” paints a picture in most everyone’s head that it is someone working to impress, feeling a bit self conscious, but at the same time with a head full of high hopes.
This nervous gorgeous mess.
When in all reality it is nothing like this. Maybe it’s because the asking isn’t a mystery anymore. Half the time you’re with someone you already are dating, the other half it’s with someone you are friends with. That’s how mine went at least. Two with people I was dating, then one with a friend. More of a “Hey, we’re friends and you have nothing to do tonight. Help me out” kind of situation. Not that I was desperate- just that I wasn’t about to drag my 22 year old boyfriend at the time into a senior prom.
Why am I not writing in my notebook?
I hate rewriting but my thoughts need to not be scattered everywhere these days.
It’s getting old.
I’m getting old.
Not so much in age, but I feel as though I’ve lived more than one life the past couple years, making me feel somewhere in my 30’s.
Okay im over doing it but you get the point.
I’m hopelessly addicted to solitaire.
Yes, I am admitting this.
When the guy across from me on the train started playing on his laptop last week, I had a gut reaction to dash over and snap it up from his lap. (Which I held back from, thankfully)
Like a recovering alcoholic.
SPA
Solitaire players anonymous.