Don't Let Me Down

I’m in between days. White sky, gray sky, red sky, dead sky…it’s all the same really.

It’s such a familiar feeling. I’m all too used to this. But then again, what good is being “used to” it? Under control…we’re under control. I think I just miss home a little too much. The last 2 years were the best. The days surrounding Christmas, we spent in small restaurants along streets with names that all sounded the same. Lights lit up “Casa Nostra” and we spent hours in a cluster of buildings that all linked together.

For no less than 3 days a week, I’d pay $9.40 for a half-hour ride across the city on the 619. I’d get off at Queen’s Statue Square and walk down to the basement of Jardine House. Then, nonchalantly, I’d order my drink.

“Tall Latte”.

Everything was at its own pace. A bottle of Calistoga, heels, hours spent doing the crossword puzzles at the back of magazines. Hours spent feeling as if everything was in its right place.

And during many 5.30s in the morning, I would look out the window and be happy with what I saw. But I knew it wasn’t enough to sustain me through a whole day. My open-windows, CD-cluttered desk and magazine-strewn room. Shoeboxes from Luiza Mirnar and a guitar in the corner. Black and white photographs here and there, documenting trips I’ve taken and a ceramic coaster. I just never wanted to sleep until the sky turned to the color of my curtains.

And then there was that day I found myself sitting in front of the CD storage cabinets of SONY music. That was the same day that I saw the city disappearing before my eyes. I was Positively 4th Street.

If I could wake up and feel mornings, I think I might just write something out. I’m so tired though. I guess it’s time to go tonight. Tomorrow, maybe tomorrow.

(What I make nowadays in my free time)