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Kazaa Lite
Jan. 29th, 2004 03:10 amWell, I've finally gotten sucked down into that world known as "filesharing"... Metallica, come 'n get me. Found "Legalize It" by Mojo Nixon, & "I Love You Goodbye" by Thomas Dolby. Weird, listening to that song & knowing he also did "She Blinded Me With Science". Vast difference in styles, there. I just remember sitting in Memphis in the early morning dark, thinking about the dj I was screwing around with, hearing that song, hoping he wouldn't follow it up w/"Jane's Getting Serious". Thinking about Louisiana even then.
Depression is my companion once again, just that grey wave of futility that washes over me every now & again. It lifted for a week or so, but it's back.
I've such a need for pomegranate trees & orange blossoms, greenery lush & overgrown, humid smells of mulch & compost on my hands. Heatwaves at ground level, the air moist & full of cricket & locust sounds. Southern California sounds & smells. Semi-rural Monrovia always smelled so good. Pomona used to before it turned into strip-mall after strip-mall.
The part of me that isn't thinking about skin cancer wants to lay face down in heated sand w/the sun baking the backs of my knees, my toes dug in past the top layer to the wet sand beneath, keeping my feet cool while my lower back pours sweat down the crack of my ass. Falling asleep like that, head on the crook of my arm, wake up all sticky & dry-mouthed, red as an apple or the paintjob of that GTO that drove by us today... racing over the sand to plunge into the salted ocean, the bouyancy, the exhiliration as the waves would lift me into the air, cradling hip & thigh, sun reflecting off the prismatic water, the taste of salt & the vague worry as I would get farther away from the shore, closer to that continental shelf - what's under me? I never was afraid of sharks, per se. Mostly jellyfish. And seaweed. And, well, something else from dreams, dreams I never sleep through, dreams I haven't had in a long time. Eventually panicking because I was far past the breakers & the bottom was nowhere to be felt, diving down & down & running out of breath before I touched sand. Salt water burning the eyes at first, afraid to have them open, afraid to have them closed. Deep, murky waters. The Pacific Ocean in Southern California is an obscure Goddess.
I guess going to the aquarium the other night kind of brought it to the forefront of my poor ol' brain. That worry that something bigger was underneath me, nature red of tooth & claw. Maybe too many tales of selkies & pookas when I was little, sea witches & fae who would carry ye off into the deep water where none can return from.
Depression is my companion once again, just that grey wave of futility that washes over me every now & again. It lifted for a week or so, but it's back.
I've such a need for pomegranate trees & orange blossoms, greenery lush & overgrown, humid smells of mulch & compost on my hands. Heatwaves at ground level, the air moist & full of cricket & locust sounds. Southern California sounds & smells. Semi-rural Monrovia always smelled so good. Pomona used to before it turned into strip-mall after strip-mall.
The part of me that isn't thinking about skin cancer wants to lay face down in heated sand w/the sun baking the backs of my knees, my toes dug in past the top layer to the wet sand beneath, keeping my feet cool while my lower back pours sweat down the crack of my ass. Falling asleep like that, head on the crook of my arm, wake up all sticky & dry-mouthed, red as an apple or the paintjob of that GTO that drove by us today... racing over the sand to plunge into the salted ocean, the bouyancy, the exhiliration as the waves would lift me into the air, cradling hip & thigh, sun reflecting off the prismatic water, the taste of salt & the vague worry as I would get farther away from the shore, closer to that continental shelf - what's under me? I never was afraid of sharks, per se. Mostly jellyfish. And seaweed. And, well, something else from dreams, dreams I never sleep through, dreams I haven't had in a long time. Eventually panicking because I was far past the breakers & the bottom was nowhere to be felt, diving down & down & running out of breath before I touched sand. Salt water burning the eyes at first, afraid to have them open, afraid to have them closed. Deep, murky waters. The Pacific Ocean in Southern California is an obscure Goddess.
I guess going to the aquarium the other night kind of brought it to the forefront of my poor ol' brain. That worry that something bigger was underneath me, nature red of tooth & claw. Maybe too many tales of selkies & pookas when I was little, sea witches & fae who would carry ye off into the deep water where none can return from.
