last night i had cafe patron shots w/ a US Congressman.
it was a fun night.
welcome home.....
i came back to my childhood room that has all the poems i liked when i was 16 written on the walls. and pictures upon pictures. it's like sleeping in a time capsule. remembering all the feelings i felt at 16-19. So similar and different to this moment of 25 years young.
- "i'm wide awake, it's morning" "love" "dream"
- an innumerable amount of song lyrics
- "stop all the clocks..." by Auden
- "well it's only a canvas sky, floating over a muslin tree...." paper moon lyrics
- "in a big country dreams stay with you, like a lover's voice ...." big country one hit wonder song
- And this fills the North eastern corner wall:
"That is all. That is how it has turned out. It is astonishing how much Eliza still manages to meddle in the housekeeping at Wimpole Street in spite of the shop and her own family. And it is notable that though she never nags her husband, and frankly loves the Colonel as if she were his favorite daughter, she has never got out of the habit of nagging Higgins that was established on the fatal night when she won his bet for him. She snaps his head off on the faintest provocation, or on none. He no longer dares to tease her by assuming an abysmal inferiority of Freddy's mind to his own. He storms and bullies and derides; but she stands up to him so ruthlessly that the Colonel has to ask her from time to time to be kinder to Higgins; and it is the only request of his that brings a mulish expression into her face. Nothing but some emergency or calamity great enough to break down all likes and dislikes, and throw them both back on their common humanity--and may they be spared any such trial!--will ever alter this. She knows that Higgins does not need her, just as her father did not need her. The very scrupulousness with which he told her that day that he had become used to having her there, and dependent on her for all sorts of little services, and that he should miss her if she went away (it would never have occurred to Freddy or the Colonel to say anything of the sort) deepens her inner certainty that she is "no more to him than them slippers", yet she has a sense, too, that his indifference is deeper than the infatuation of commoner souls.
She is immensely interested in him. She has even secret mischievous moments in which she wishes she could get him alone, on a desert island, away from all ties and with nobody else in the world to consider, and just drag him off his pedestal and see him making love like any common man. We all have private imaginations of that sort. But when it comes to business, to the life that she really leads as distinguished from the life of dreams and fancies, she likes Freddy and she likes the Colonel; and she does not like Higgins and Mr. Doolittle. Galatea never does quite like Pygmalion: his relation to her is too godlike to be altogether agreeable.
- And this poem is by where the CD player used to be:
daydream delusion
limousine eyelash
oh baby with your pretty face
drop a tear in my wine glass
look at those big eyes on your face
see what you mean to me
sweet cakes and milk shakes
I’m a delusion angel
I’m a fantasy parade
I want you to know what I think
don’t want you to guess anymore
you have no idea where I came from
we have no idea where we’re going
lodged in life like two branches in a river
caught in the current
flowing downstream
I’ll carry you you carry me
that’s how it could be
don’t you know me
don’t you know me by now…
I guess I'm a romantic and will never be able to shake that core detail of myself, no matter how many horrible things occur. It's just a part of me. I'm similar to Romeo in his opening scenes of Shakespeare's masterpiece play. So fast to be in and out of love. But even when I'm not in love w/ someone I'm in love! With a person I've yet to meet.
And I'm glad, because it makes the lemons sweet and the monsters in the closet not so scary.
Vive l'amour!!!!!
