|We're having a funeral here, not a play.
||[Nov. 20th, 2011|08:16 pm]
Sunday always has this crepuscular feel to it that makes me feel like I'm witnessing a new ending--regardless of how good or bad the week may have been. When you do know that something won't last forever, you feel compelled to at least bite a sizable chunk out of whatever ephemeral hypothetical thing so that you won't forget it. I feel like I've let my weeks go by too easily without taking note of their flavor, consistency, and presentation. This is the end of yet another corny metaphor.
I really miss writing.
Not that I really feel that my life stories are blog-worthy most of the time, but I think one of the most interesting aspects of a story is not necessarily what the story is about but how it's told. Playing with this aspect and being able to look back at the headstones of weeks past is just priceless.
Anyway, my last post was right as I was leaving for Australia. This post is 3 weeks before I leave Australia to go back to the states. Up until this trip, I had never left North America before. Now that I've seen how easy it really is to start all over again, I want to become a nomad. I want to spend no longer than a year in different places and treasure the weekly twilight on a daily basis.
I want to punch Stephanie Meyer in the cunt for attaching the stigma of glittery vampires to such a beautiful word as "twilight".
I want to punch myself in the cunt for almost typing "stigmata" in place of "stigma" in the previous sentence.
I don't want to call it quits here.