a fashion note
As the temperature reaches the 70s, I reach for my fedora, but not without a second thought. Of course, any fashion follower would remember that the fedora was made big last year with the constant coverage of the celebs’s favorite trendy cover-up. For a second I wondered if sporting a brim would be out of touch. Verdict: absolutely not. Although the trends swing from hat to no hat, the fedora remains a staple in any classic wardrobe: cool and comfortable, not to mention protection from those rays, wrinkles are outdated anyway. This summer I wear the fedora without a care. Who me, a slave to fashion trends? Never—that’s just too much wasted effort.
+i know what it is
and i have always known/ (and this makes me want to type in “this is the deepest secret that no one knows, it is the root of the root, the bud of the bud, the sky of the sky of a tree called life, which no soul can hope nor mind can hide, i carry your heart, i carry it in my heart…) but that’s not what i know. that’s cummings. but this is precisely what i know (paradoxically).
i want to be rescued. i want cummings to (cum-haha! no)…write a poem for me. to throw away his anti-world war two sentiments and pull out preposition by prepositional phrase, stringing incoherencies into a body that makes erases all those doubts. oh friend, you must know this word. doubt. the very bane of my existence. the gossip girl that taps on Fear’s shoulder and whispers truths and untruths (god what am i dickinson now…dick? huh- why do my favorite poets have such sexually punny names?)
anywayyyy. i did a thing this year that i dont do often. i put myself, on purpose, into a situation that required my absolute vulnerability. and it gave me something and it took away some. but life isnt math. im not at zero. im not naive. but i’m still waiting for the rescue. how sad.
but im learning—don’t you worry. i am learning the very though lesson of being alone. and im not going to write you bullshit about how being alone is inspiring and empowering; cause it really just sucks. and its not just alone, its: i am alone. its loneliness. and that creeps silently, under the sheets and into your ear at night. and then all of a sudden you wake up and its there. and alone is your companion.
so tell me something, when will i stop waiting for the rescue? why dont i feel confident enough to rescue myself? but most importantly, why is pandora giving me a fucking commercial right now? #badpandoraluck
ah. to finish packing [the jolt of bittersweetness jumps from my stomach into my throat—rising in nausea and nostalgia. the truth is. i’m afraid. i’m so afraid ill never feel it that i jump at the first one to quicken my heartbeat. silly girl…(trix are for kids). well, maybe trix are for kids, but tricks are definitely for the college student. you heard it here first: the advice that i will fully apply to my life next year/during the summer is to play the game. whether that brings me closer to that feeling or not (which i’m almost sure it wont)..it is a change from the waiting. maybe ill get up off my ass and rescue myself someday. here’s to dreaming. cheers.
+
there’s this pain in my stomach
and i know that half of it is those cookies i ate at dinner, but i know that the other half is loneliness. god it hurts and it leaves you just wanting it gone. whether its feeding it or fixing it, you just want to never feel it again.
+
