elizabeth lane lawley
michael "OC" clarke
e v h e a d
sweet fancy moses
wood s lot
m. melting object
Thursday, October 17, 2002
You know that feeling when you're sitting all alone at
night waiting for the telephone to ring, but it never does and nothing
will ever be the same again because the one person you wish more than
anyone else in the world would call you, won't? Won't answer your
calls, either. Doesn't care to. Doesn't care, really, if you live or
die, if you're there or gone, which you can easily get to thinking,
you might as well be. What difference would it make? And this goes on
for months, years, decades. Eventually you stop waiting. But there's a
silent telephone somewhere deep down in your heart, and at times you
wonder: was that for me? But it turns out someone is talking to
somebody else. That's when you know it's still there.
Then something amazing happens. Something you never
expected, never dared to dream, though perhaps you did in some long
forgotten sleep. With all hope gone, knowing it's finally over and
done, you give up. Not without a fight, but the fight has been only
with yourself. There's no one left but you, sitting in an
empty house in an empty town with an empty heart.
The phone rings. It's not who you thought you'd hoped for so long.
Not the one who drained the color from your eyes, your sky. But
someone you barely knew six weeks ago. Some impossible angel you never
expected, never dared to dream.
"Hi," she says. A world opens out on an in-caught breath.
And you say, "Hi yourself, Beautiful. But baby, what happened to your jeans?"
12:54 AM | link |
get your badge here.
"RageBoy: Giving being fucking nuts a good name since 1985."
28 October 2004
||More of Chris Locke's photos
Until a minute ago, I had no photos. I still have no photos to speak of.
I don't even have a camera. But all these people were linking to "my photos."
It was embarassing. It's still embarassing. But I'm used to that.
what I'm listening to...
egr on topica
on yahoo groups
terms of service
It is too late.