***
Few minutes later (10 or maybe 15), Greta decided to buy some beer and a couple of potato chips.
"Or maybe some pizza", she whispered.
She decided that the night would be beautiful with beers and a chick flick to tire her and that she could sleep without having her sleeping pills. She decided now that her insomnia has grown: the more she take the pills, the more the sleep stays away. She feels colder every night and her mind, floating into the abyss falling into a tabularaza. Though her friends(she probably has few) recommended her to some of the psychiatrists in the city to find out what is keeping her from sleeping and help her get over it, she still feel that she can handle it, that she is still in control of her body even though because of her insomnia, her eating pattern has also been affected.
Friday, August 21, 2009
the midnight walk
***
it was quarter past 10 in the night when greta got up. she slept for almost the whole day and she felt the little tingles around her back for lying on the couch for hours. she went to the phone and played the recieved messenges.
"mom wants to see you. be here on friday and have your weekend here," the voice of her older sister Guada sounds like she's in a rush, like she's calling from the cab or the phone on one of the streets of Santo antonio where they both grew up. now that she is in her 30th year, she is still well-cared of by her family. she has always been the baby and that's maybe the reason why she desperately wants to be independent and wanted to feel like she stands on her own.
she went to the window and saw the city underneath her. it was lovely and she remembered those dreams she had when she was little that all those lights from the city are the spirits of the trees, the buildings, the dogs, her own sandals even and she still have those dreams until now but they aren't as "dreamy" as before.
greta decided to take a walk through the streets, through the darkened alley ways, into the night, walked past the drug dealers, telephone booths, drunken teenagers with loud voices dancing like they own the streets.
it wasn't raining but it still feels cold and she has to smoke her marlboro lights and put on her hoodie. she remembered a song. she hummed with it as she walk into the night and the her flight was almost as heavenly as the song she hums along with and as tormented as her own broken heart.
The air is still at 3
The streets are asleep for now
The world, it folds it’s arms
It embraces me.
And hides me from all harm
It hides me from all harm.
I ponder the loss of stars
In the night sky,
A smoked filled air tonight
For all of us
I weep for our loss.
I wander these streets
The corners I turn
Solace in shadows and road lights
That burn comfort in thoughts
I am home.
Tears flood the streets at 3
Drowning out my broken heart
Loneliness spreads it’s arms
It embraces me.
And kills me so slowly
It kills me so slowly.
(aug2,2009)
it was quarter past 10 in the night when greta got up. she slept for almost the whole day and she felt the little tingles around her back for lying on the couch for hours. she went to the phone and played the recieved messenges.
"mom wants to see you. be here on friday and have your weekend here," the voice of her older sister Guada sounds like she's in a rush, like she's calling from the cab or the phone on one of the streets of Santo antonio where they both grew up. now that she is in her 30th year, she is still well-cared of by her family. she has always been the baby and that's maybe the reason why she desperately wants to be independent and wanted to feel like she stands on her own.
she went to the window and saw the city underneath her. it was lovely and she remembered those dreams she had when she was little that all those lights from the city are the spirits of the trees, the buildings, the dogs, her own sandals even and she still have those dreams until now but they aren't as "dreamy" as before.
greta decided to take a walk through the streets, through the darkened alley ways, into the night, walked past the drug dealers, telephone booths, drunken teenagers with loud voices dancing like they own the streets.
it wasn't raining but it still feels cold and she has to smoke her marlboro lights and put on her hoodie. she remembered a song. she hummed with it as she walk into the night and the her flight was almost as heavenly as the song she hums along with and as tormented as her own broken heart.
The air is still at 3
The streets are asleep for now
The world, it folds it’s arms
It embraces me.
And hides me from all harm
It hides me from all harm.
I ponder the loss of stars
In the night sky,
A smoked filled air tonight
For all of us
I weep for our loss.
I wander these streets
The corners I turn
Solace in shadows and road lights
That burn comfort in thoughts
I am home.
Tears flood the streets at 3
Drowning out my broken heart
Loneliness spreads it’s arms
It embraces me.
And kills me so slowly
It kills me so slowly.
(aug2,2009)
say goodnight and go
Greta thought about how amzing it is to play musical instruments like imogen heap. She thought about the technologies that Imogen used to make her music so unique and how technology seems to be always on the rise to give people the convinience they want, to make life a little easier and make work more faster and finally, to make people sit down and enjoy the day. Not so bad after all, she concluded. For a woman like her, technology wouldn't even be big a deal.
She was born as a spoiled little girl with everything she wants right after she says it. She wasn't smart, wasn't famous, wasn't talented, she doesn't even have an ambition, a life-after-today thoughts are never necessary to her. She just depends practically evrything to her parents and until now, she doesn't have even the slightest idea of what she wants to be. A beautiful woman in her late 20's, still working at a university, making phonecalls and recieving phonecalls. Not much money from work but more money from her dead husband's bank and her parents we're still willing to feed their precious little girl. So there, she sits on the couch pondering about lots of things like ponies and radios, relaxing and enjoying the day.(june 18,2009)
)
hide and seek, trains of sewing machines
- (june 11,2009)
it's started to rain when Greta pulled the window down and thought of what to put on the player.
Ahhh, she walked slowly to the cd case and lift the burned cd containing songs by Imogen Heap and placed it on the player. She pressed number 2, Hide and Seek. What better way to spend the freezing morning than to sip coffee and hearing Imogen Heap's vioce floating through the marijuana-smelling room and never have to worry about the time feeling lazy because after all, time is only a concept of the mind. She felt it, the tenderness aginst the sorrow that the song brings and the voices that follows Imogen Heap's. She shut her eyes.
"hide and seek,
Trains of sewing machines"
***
the witch
Robin is again kicking the ball like the master soccer player, he was always on top of his game. The street always seem so cheery in the morning when Robin, together with his friends played soccer in the moist-filled ghetto-like street. Kids like Robin's age doesnt mind the coolness of the morning, playing endlessly like there's no tomorrow but it's days like these when Greta dreams of a far away white sand beach get-away. It's days these like when everyone in the street she lives in wants to talk about the waether all the time.
The sun is still hiding behind the gray clouds and rain is always in it's toes to wake those who are deep in sleep and to put to bed the rest who woke early to fix everything up in the household for the loved ones who will set out in their daily rounds.
Greta stirred her coffee and put some cream on it. She liked it creamier than the usual today. She then opened the drawer in her study table and looked for the cigarrette case for some marijuana. She smiled upon reaching it and found some dead leaves of the herbs. Greta grabbed the pipe and passionately fixed the dead leaves on the mouth of the pipe that will soon come to life by the flames of her orange lighter then she sipped. She felt the purity and the peace that rushed from the mouth of the pipe to the tip and it touched the insides of her lips and into her mouth. She inhaled sourly and let out a thin line of smoke from her nostrils and into the air but the essence of the once dead parts of the leaves remains in her spirit and shows in her eyes. The breath of the morning is now complete with the few remaining puffs she have yet to smoke.(june10,2009)
The sun is still hiding behind the gray clouds and rain is always in it's toes to wake those who are deep in sleep and to put to bed the rest who woke early to fix everything up in the household for the loved ones who will set out in their daily rounds.
Greta stirred her coffee and put some cream on it. She liked it creamier than the usual today. She then opened the drawer in her study table and looked for the cigarrette case for some marijuana. She smiled upon reaching it and found some dead leaves of the herbs. Greta grabbed the pipe and passionately fixed the dead leaves on the mouth of the pipe that will soon come to life by the flames of her orange lighter then she sipped. She felt the purity and the peace that rushed from the mouth of the pipe to the tip and it touched the insides of her lips and into her mouth. She inhaled sourly and let out a thin line of smoke from her nostrils and into the air but the essence of the once dead parts of the leaves remains in her spirit and shows in her eyes. The breath of the morning is now complete with the few remaining puffs she have yet to smoke.(june10,2009)
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