Talk to Her directed by Almodovar is one of my favorite movies and it has a great deal to do with this song, Fale com Ela, sung by Caetano Veloso. I wish I could describe its impact beyond the fact his control and gentile tone cradles and soothes me, but I am not that eloquent. At the end of the day, a song is a song and the very best speak for themselves. The rest of the movie is amazing as well, but for now please enjoy this.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
the new
the new house. the new city that is turning familiar. the new boyfriend. the new friends. the new family dynamic. the new older me. the new path. the new new new. all this new needed a fresh forum. ive decided to keep this to myself for awhile to see what i can extract from myself. its been a long time since ive written in a journal format so im going to see what comes out without thinking about an audience.
this weekend i moved into my new home. its nice, nicer than the last place. ive spent, get this, the
last 3 consecutive nights in my bed. it wasnt that i wanted to live with noah, though i did enjoy the company, it was that my old place felt so dirty and, frankly, scary. i never felt clean or happy to be there, more like a boarder at a halfway house for biker punks. tonight i made vegan cupcakes and talked about lesbians with my roommates and friends. there are two cats, a washer and dryer, and nice people, all of which make a much better fit. the locks are tricky and tonight i burned myself on the stove handle that gets so hot you have to use an oven mitt to open it, but these things can be overlooked.
athens is becoming a home. i know how to get places, i can give you recommendations to where to go for good brunch, i wave or say hi atleast once on my daily walks. I like the smallness to the place. It's quaint and will undoubtedly become claustrophobic, but it works for now. For the first time I feel myself settling down, possibly even maturing. I don't know how to feel about this. Often, I find myself performing small acts of rebellion, little things, nothing too harmful, like smoking 2 cigarettes on the back porch to pretend I don't worry about things like getting older.
it is getting late, and i have an 8 am class.
this weekend i moved into my new home. its nice, nicer than the last place. ive spent, get this, thelast 3 consecutive nights in my bed. it wasnt that i wanted to live with noah, though i did enjoy the company, it was that my old place felt so dirty and, frankly, scary. i never felt clean or happy to be there, more like a boarder at a halfway house for biker punks. tonight i made vegan cupcakes and talked about lesbians with my roommates and friends. there are two cats, a washer and dryer, and nice people, all of which make a much better fit. the locks are tricky and tonight i burned myself on the stove handle that gets so hot you have to use an oven mitt to open it, but these things can be overlooked.
athens is becoming a home. i know how to get places, i can give you recommendations to where to go for good brunch, i wave or say hi atleast once on my daily walks. I like the smallness to the place. It's quaint and will undoubtedly become claustrophobic, but it works for now. For the first time I feel myself settling down, possibly even maturing. I don't know how to feel about this. Often, I find myself performing small acts of rebellion, little things, nothing too harmful, like smoking 2 cigarettes on the back porch to pretend I don't worry about things like getting older.
it is getting late, and i have an 8 am class.
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