receipt scribble

things found in my bag on busted up crinkled pieces of scratch paper and receipts

Saturday, March 3, 2012


With the promise of springtime and windows rolled down-music blared-barefoot... I've been feeling nostalgic. Maybe its boredom, regret, old age, but flashes of moments of time find their way into the clutter that is my head. Mostly ignited by music and smells.
*the smell of nag champa and looking at fancy rocks.
*a kiss on the roof of a church and "God give us love in the time that we have"
*side walk chalk and a temporarily vandalized skate park
*Billie Holiday a-blaring on the drive back from Park City.
*Listening to Iron and Wine's "Woman King" a hundred times on the the drive back from Salt Lake and feeling a self induced sorrow.
*"Wave of Mutilation" and being a rockstar.
*Orange juice and blenders.
*Cigarettes and a furry brown couch.
*rush of wind through my hair and swinging at bluff street park.

Are we these memories? These sparks of implacable deja vu moments when we are not here - in the world - but in our heads re living something profoundly beautiful. And who thought this is what we would remember from all of it? Just this fleeting, lightning flash of FEELING. Palpable. Taste-able.
And do you cry and wish to return to feeling like a hippie girl dancing and falling and high, but never really high?
Or you realize that you've felt this way the whole time... always had this sense of not being 'present'.?
That this is life. And growing old doesn't sound so bad if all of the beauty of it continues to flash and spark and undulate through the wave that is my thoughts.

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