(from page 29) i have this wish to ride the subway all the time. for a day, i will ride it to the end of every single line, transfer back and forth with only a journal, pen and metrocard. ppl watching is something that i totally thrive on and you will never be more amazed at the actions of ppl as you will be on the ny subway. i could watch ppl forever, i could write forever and i could ride the subway forever, so i will combine these three in order to explore the places in ny that i have not seen yet. i could touch each end of the line and see my connections visually, silver pinpoints that trace the map. i would have a string of words that outlined the tracks and followed me home.
(from page 41) i've always wondered what it would be like to be her. not that i'm wishing to be, but i wonder abt it. the girl who walks in and grabs all attention-- less than a month in a new environment and she has her arms around everything, ppl waiting for her to speak, paying attention to what she needs. she has found a place, from the outside. i don't know if she's found her inner place, i haven't talked to her enough to know that. but it took me so long to work my way in, to find these ppl to talk to and i wonder how it would be to walk in and take over. i feel like a mother these days-- not that i have found my stable place, but i feel like a have a hand in helping ppl find theirs, even in small ways, giving them directions to the yellow door on east 3rd, talking until all hours just for the sake of holding onto something.
(from page 2) i wasn't aware of a place in which i felt comfortable until i moved here and surrounded myself with the necessities of comfort, most notably, books and ppl who stimulated my sense of self, my desires to seek not only within myself but also outside of myself. i don't look to others for sustinence, but somehow find it in the course of dealing with ppl and allowing myself to be vulnerable. only when i am here do i feel so intensely capable of communicating my desires. only when i search for that ability can i never find it. i am in no way comfortable in my search to renew my own possibilities, to know my own ends. i will never know the outer boundaries of myself and i choose to take certain paths. but i'm damn sure that in finding out some small things, i'm clearing a path to learn new things.
"one last word for a you or two" (from page 38) there are some you's in my life who never see these pages, who don't even know what i say within them. there are some who dislike what i have to say here. this is not a disclaimer (it's kind of late for that). this is me, 2 dimensionally. it is kind of choppy, not always well-laid out, not always aesthetically pleasing. it is not in existence to please you. it is in existence to represent me. to give me a place that is in my full control. to allow me my mistakes, my stumbles over words, my feelings, which are not always articulately expressed. this is me in my full comfort and discomfort. while you may be mentioned highly, or lowly, remember that this is me. i do not hate you if i haven't thanked you... i do not hate you if i wrote a sour word or two. this is my release and i demand that you allow me this small space for me.
"i miss this, my view..." (from page 17) you have to believe me when i say that i miss the most simple things abt new york. everyone is like "oh, new york is so exciting! it must be great!" and it can be, but i don't miss that as much as i miss things like the view out my window and the ppl who work at the deli across the street from my building, b/c sure, new york is a happening kind of place, but it happens to be my home, and i'm more fond of the everyday things than i am of the clubs and bars and bullshit like that. i hate the tourist stops like times square, washington square, blah blah blah. i love the places like the community garden on 12th st. between aves B and C, and the toy sculpture on ave B at 6th st. i love the places that ppl rarely see, that make my home my home, such as the view from my window. sure, it's just some buildings and typical urban scenery, but god damn i find i beautiful b/c i woke up to it everyday, saw it from every different angle, lived and breathed it like a photograph can never express. and that means a helluva lot to me... when i'm there, i rarely think abt the fact that i'm in new york and when i remember that, it catches me by surprise b/c life in my neighborhood is nothing like the glimpses of new york you see in movies or on total request live w/ carson daly. puh-lease. maybe i'm just simple.
"outside/inside" (from page 13) everyone puts up fronts, has feelings that they express and those that they don't. i am particularly well-versed in the art of suppressing my interests for others. i am the reigning queen of inner pouting. i'm trying to change my ways. for example, i convince myself that i'm happy in order to be amiable, even when i'm so beyond depression that i can't think clearly or walk without aching. i fold my cards and smile because i hate to whine and act childish. lately i've been trying to act as i feel, and it seems that i'm never happy. maybe my true emotions consist of a mellow, faintly watered down set of regular human ones. i let myself get attached to ppl who don't/can't return the feeling, and dive further into deception, acting as if it's okay that no one really gives a damn if i fell off the earth. obviously, it hurts that i am not missed or longed for. but i would never bring this up in conversation without implying that it is all-inclusive. outside i am self-esteem girl, fat-girl avenger and poet proud of her accomplishments. inside, i'm wishing that someone cared at all.
(from page 21) dear eeyore, you and i have been pals for a long time, right? maybe you can help me out here. i thought that i knew where i was going in my life, but i feel so uprooted from my original plans these days. today was valentines day, my first impulse was to go to tompkins park and throw eggs at all of the smooch-ey young couples. i did not end up there, but there is something resting in my stomach that is so deeply bitter toward happiness. i often think that i'm trying to do too much and that i'm overlooking what happiness i do have in my life. but when i slow down to examine this, i only uncover how many other things make me sad, like you. but unlike you, i don't want to accept gloominess and just go with the flow. i don't want to not care if my house keeps falling down... i want to fix it for good. maybe you can help me with this. it's really nice to know that you're there for me everynight so i can fall asleep with you in my arms. that's comforting. you keep me together at the seams and i pin yr tail back on when it falls off. we're good like that. we work together. i hope that i can figure myself out soon... where i want to go. what's important to me and what needs to go on the back burner for awhile. i'm glad we had this talk. please let me know if you have any suggestions for me. love, lauren
"leaves falling" (from page 16) there was a time when a girl was unhappy with her class choices. she got a bad number in registration and got shafted for her classes. what a silly reason to be upset, said all of her classmates, but she didn't mind. this little girl had a dream of publishing her writing by the time she turned 21, and this was all that she wanted in life. she walked home, wondering in which direction her life would wander. how she felt more lost than the leaves falling from the sparsely placed trees in manhattan. sheesh, it's cold outside, she thought.
excerpt from "stapled" (from page 11) i used to want nothing more than to take up permanent residence in a psychiatric hostpital. this is not to say that i envy the lifestyle, but more to say that i believe i would feel more comfortable in that environment as opposed to this one. the outside world is infinitely more insane than the actions of those who have been exiled from its chaos. throughout my existence, ppl have been trying to figure out what is "wrong" with me. i want to talk to you abt sanity and its boundaries. i admire those who walk through the streets screaming, schizophrenics by lifestyle or diagnosis, who have all creative-performance licenses. it is only when we are dubbed insane that we can be freely acting creatures.
you bring out the tetris in me. four by four, the bricks of a love oversaturated. i am marinated in legos. i sit like water in a sauna. you lay down on the lines that i have woven and pretend that they are comfortable. you know that you don't really like vegetables like i do. we sit cross-legged at dawn and think abt the events that led up to such a perfect night. the mess made from a perfectly good batch of Sanity. i try to undermine the st. louis blues as they caress the wind with their stickhandling skills. you amaze me, like a jigsaw. i'd like to spend a few hours working on you.