aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - i've nothing to write about, and i'm determined to make that intoxicating. because i shouldn't be able to count on oppressive days or fits of my personality flaws or the empty compulsion of a pretty smile. i am so much more than unhappy. i read pages of stories of kalispell's yesteryears. hundreds of smith's-used-to-be-FM's-which-used-to-be-B&B's-where-i-had-my-first-jobs and we-used-to-go-out-to-the-moon-tower-on-friday-nights and do-you-remember-that-greasy-spoon-by-LBMs? lovely. and lovelier are the parts that i got a taste of: holding hands at the roller rink, sneaking into the drive-in theatre, being attacked by geese in woodland park, scaring ourselves breathless on the faerie steps. turns out people lived in my city before i did, and i'm not even too far from being one of them. and i don't think i'm betraying my thesis statement by getting sentimental. it's a gentle feeling, like lakewater just the right temperature. and part of that feeling is a soft urge to share it - not dramatic, not ultimate, not consuming. soft. those were the best days of high school, tramping about half-lost with a half-stranger. and it's really not too late for them. 1:01 a.m. - 2011-08-08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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