Sole mate, hat mate, it fits.

Hat Trick
By: Jennifer Michael Hecht

A woman howling, her baby's bunk somehow afloat in the river, taking on water. Help, shrieks the mother. Shriek, helps the baby, and a good man jumps into the river; splash and paddle. Grabs the kid, hands the damp bundle over. Thank God, cries the mother. She cradles her daughter, looks up at the man, says, Excuse me, but she had a hat.The child grows up to be a hat-check girl, always trying to get back what she'd lost,always having to return it all by the end of thenight. She is often sorrowful and ashamedfor being sorrowful, surrounded by warm coats, a stool to rest on while others,elsewhere, spend all day bending. Wincinganyway, she sharp regrets her bland missteps, laments her ill use and fatigue. It is awful: her feet hot with it, her head metal-cold.You think it's enough to just keep getting old? Can't I also have my hat?Roots squeeze this information toward their leaves: You can not also have your hat.After mother and child left, the man, loitering the scene of his heroicshappened upon the little girl's small cap.Picked it up off the bank, startled by the tinyscale of its protection, took it home, kept it for years, then lost track of it.It's been long seasons since he'd jump in the sea like a fin in response to a splash.To be so little thanked, so asked for more, flattened in him what he hoped he had to give.The mother grows less certain by degreesthat all that she had long awaitedhad any sense outside the confinesof her blazing expectations.The girl, fidgeting hairclip in cloak room, her own self set by his one leap and her many lurid resignations, braces waves of distress and lets down her tresses. All three rail
their separate saga, he having labored and netted so little; the elder she having
wanted so much from those around her and found she was not so much let downas wrong in her detailed attentions; the girlwrestling a dreadful shadow: the factsthat throw us in the water in the first placeruin us for much saving. She is aggrievedof it, feels disgraced by the triumph of pain. I want to comfort them, myself, my keen regret,but am at best a lemon tree, vivid fruitabundant among bleak green leaves. I will wait for ice and sugar to be invented, bees in the daytime, bats when it's done. I will wait in the sun. I hope for relief like a lunatic, indulge, like a drunk, in my croon. It is my intention to offer lemonade while there is time and so much brutal sunshine. Meanwhile, I can't do much, but gather the hero and the mother beneath my bower.
As for the girl, she's not a hat-checker, anymore, there's no such thing these
days. After an eon of servitude: menstopped wearing hats, so she was freeto wander away from the 21 Cluband under my branches. Isn't shebeautiful? Didn't she have a hat? To know, and arrange, and recover even that. I am ridiculous, but it is what is wanted.


I think it's just lovely, don't you?!

Matter over mind.

I feel like everyone is doing such a great job of living that i'd hate to intrude. Maybe I should just leave it to the professionals...

It's as if my vices are calling out for me.

And I'm sitting here crying. And I never cry. But tonight has been a wakeup call. And I think I can allow myself one full night of crying. But just this once.

"But, like ivy, we grow where there is room for us."

I'll write a much more detailed 2008 wrapup blog later because I have so much to say about the year that coudl've easily swallowed me whole in an instant. I also want to blog about my expectations for this wonderful new year and all of the massive changes that will soon be flowing from insane directions but since it's 12:45 on a school night I'm in the mood for something a bit more light hearted with a meaty undertone.

So instead I've opted to talk about my dream mate.

I saw the movie 'dedication' about 8 months ago and I always tell people about it. It's such an underrated movie because I'm pretty sure it went straight to dvd and it didn't get the credit it deserved. Billy Crudup delivers the most amazing performance. I'm pretty sure I melt everytime I watch him.

Maybe I am as fucking crazy as I've convinced myself that I am but this is hands down one of the greatest quotes I've heard in cinema. I want this man, the person who can came up with these thoughts, that person is who i'm going to be with, maybe not forever but for as long as allowed.

Henry: Okay, uh, before we can, uh... work effectively with one another, I think we should be comfortable. So, ten minutes, okay? Then - then work. Okay? Go. Okay, I'll start. Uh, I hate my mother. I hate my goddamn dead father more. Rudy was the only friend I ever had. I had a girlfriend once who I used to like to masturbate to more than have sex with. Carrots and snakes frighten me. Umm... I'm superstitious about the numbers...three, six, and seven.

Henry: I can only stir things counterclockwise, and I know that if I don't, something bad will happen. I take size eleven-and-a-half shoe. I don't have a favourite book. Umm... Oh... What's crucial? Oh, I don't drive or ride in cars. Statistically speaking, you have a 100% chance of being in an accident in your lifetime. They're death boxes. I give to Amnesty International on the off chance I'm ever imprisoned and tortured for my political beliefs. Paradoxically, I have no political beliefs. Umm... life is pain. Black kids are cuter than white ones. What's important? Uh... I didn't mean it when I compared you to our waitress. I was only trying to hurt you. I could've been meaner about your looks, and what I would've said would have made you cry. Umm... I have a towel I can't throw out 'cause it may have feelings. When I ejaculate, I go into deep depressions. Though by any standard you're a nice person, I deeply resent having to work with you. I love Japanese monster movies. Gamera, specifically.

We had been everywhere. We had really seen nothing.

I've come to the realization that I idealize everything in my mind. I consume my brain with thoughts about nothing but glorious events that I have in great detail planned out but no real intention of seeing through. This is just another form of procrastination but it's kept me company so far. I thoroughly love seeing people succeed. I relish other people's successes and accept their failures as my own. My motives have been sincere and my love for mankind gets rejuvinated daily. I'll keep track of all the misfortunes swallow you whole and all the prosperity you are granted in the years to come. It's quite honestly a scrapbook of the mind. I don't add any real concrete facts, I just photocopy days that turn into months onto the pages. More people should keep track of their intentions. I'd hate to see your light at the end of the tunnel dim before you even open your eyes...

On a completely unrelated basis ...
Note to self, rent the following movies:

Lolita
Party girl
Igby goes down
Manhattan

All of the time you thought I was sad, I was just trying to remember your name.

I'm currently under the spell of the song "Your ex lover is dead" by Stars. It's funny because an old rerun of degrassi was playing on my tv but I was multitasking all sorts of things at once so I wasn't really watching it and all of a sudden this song started playing and it made me stop dead in my tracks. I just sat there staring at the tv screen soaking up all of the lyrics and allowing the melody to lull me to sleep. It didn't actually put me to sleep but the song was so pretty it could almost pass for a lullaby for the 20th century. I updated my ipod which was oddly enough extremely theraputic. I hadn't updated it since a year and a half ago because the screen is so cracked you can't see what is playing and I didn't see the point. It still works though and tonight I added tons of new material that I have been listening to. The stuff that was on there brought back memories of crushes, an ex boyfriend, a dead friendship, a funeral, and just being young and naive in general. I went on b&n website earlier and put a copy of Black kid's album 'Party Traumatic' on hold. Probably my favorite band currently. I have exams tomorrow and I will get murdered by the world of trigonometry. Sweet dreams are made of these...........

We have to create the fireworks for our veins to feel alive.

I think somewhere along the mystical path to our love lives we all managed to mangle and contort or rather misinterpret the true meaning behind boys and the silly games they play. Allow them to play field hockey with your heart, tackle your bones, and suckerpunch your vital organs. It's a harsh game of who can hurt the other without caving in. In society today games are almost always frowned upon, "what good comes from this" the critics cry. The bottom line is walls must be built and we have to test the waters to see if the love in question is worth the 50 foot drop to nowheresville, USA. There are intentions, maybe not the best ones but they are there if you use your magnifying glass. Games make the whole falling in love craze seem much more appealing. Let's just call it foreplay that is a prelude to an eventual dull honeymoon phase. Girls should counteract and exude some balance in the equation. You are in the drivers seat of your emotions. Allow yourself to play along. I say bring on the games, bring on the hurt, bring on anything that makes me feel this alive. I beg of you sir.

And to further prove my point. Even my immortal soulmate Andy Warhol agreed with me by saying:
"Fantasy love is much better than reality love. Never doing it is very exciting. The most exciting attructions are between the opposites that never meet."

For God's sake let me love, and hold your tounge.

My soul was awakened in Austin, Texas. I miss everything about that damn city already. I'm doing my research paper right now and I am feeling suddenly alive and inspired. I am reading different criticisms of John Donne's work and I stumbeled across this

"He is telling their souls goodmorning, which shows how this is a start or a beginning. He compares his new love an emergence of his soul, and while sea discoverers have gone to new worlds, they only need each other."

I wish I could blissfully write something like that merely on experience alone. Alas, maybe I won't ever be a well rounded writer.