you just get out / what they put in
and they never / put in enough
love is like a bottle of gin
but a bottle of gin / is not like love
..:::.magnetic.fields...:.
maybe it is the last beautiful weekend of the year, & i am spending it inside, just watch me. i'm going to have tea & put on the billie holiday LPs that bean brought home the other night. i'm going to ignore all the football traffic outside my window & concentrate just on the leaves, & the color of the houses across the street against the color of the washed-out sky.
i feel maniac & dull.
all day i have been thinking about last night at mass, how i just wept for the most selfish, ridiculous things. how then i had to sit through the rest of the service feeling very self-conscious about my face, red & blotchy, with dried-up tears & dried-up snot. & how i sat there feeling self-conscious instead of concentrating. i walked out at the end & stared at all the trees, the very top of the puny skyline poking up.
