I opened up one of my college notebooks to a random page. There’s no date written on it, but a few pages beforehand I have the date March 6, 2007. Scrawled in purple pen and separated by squiggly lines are the following musings:
(QUICK NOTE! DUE TO THE VOLUME OF COMMENTS REGARDING HOW BEAUTIFUL THE POEM ABOUT “VIENNA” IS — I DID NOT WRITE THAT. IT’S FROM A POEM BY FEDERICO GARCIA LORCA THAT WAS TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH BY LEONARD COHEN. I EXPLAIN THIS AT THE END OF THE PIECE, BUT HERE IT IS AT THE BEGINNING NOW, TOO, JUST IN CASE. WHY DID I SCRIBBLE IT IN MY JOURNAL? BECAUSE I LOVED IT. STILL DO.)
“I could still make it to class
But it’s such a fucking
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“The song they’re playing right now
Is absolutely beautiful.
I can’t even understand
What the singer’s saying
but his voice is still great
And I love that I can hear
someone playing the triangle —
Or are they chimes?
Maybe it’s some indie band
that someone put on a CD
titled “Tuesday Afternoon Mix.”
If that’s the case, I would love to shake that person’s hand.”
“I don’t think too many people
look attractive in shorts.
I myself haven’t worn shorts
in public in at least five years.
I don’t have long, skinny, supermodel legs
and I don’t pretend I do
So I save people the terror
and always wear jeans.”
“Now in Vienna
there’s 10 pretty women
There’s a shoulder
Where death comes to cry
There’s a lobby with 1200 windows
There’s a tree where the doves
go to die.”
“I love you like
sitting outside at sidewalk cafes
watching people stroll by
while I sip at a mug
of coffee and scribble in my
I’m wearing sunglasses that
reflect back an image of
you smiling and then closing your
eyes to breathe
Just for a second.”
1.) I wonder what I was doing in that moment that was too good to give up for the sake of going to class. I suspect I was sitting at The Kresge Cafe, because I know that’s where I was when I wrote the ditty about the “Tuesday Afternoon Mix.” Was I somewhere else when I wrote the first blurb? Was I outside, or was I just content? Finally…did I end up going to class?
2.) “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Whoa there. What was I talking about? Whoa there. Don’t even get me started on that one.
3.) How funny that I just posted the final draft of this one. It’s interesting for me to look at this draft. I guess I didn’t change too much of it, but I still think the changes I made were the right ones. Go Steff.
4.) Ha. Oh, wow. I still haven’t worn shorts in public. I wonder why I felt the need to write this down. I probably saw someone wearing shorts and felt inclined to write about…shorts.
5.) No, I’m not secretly a brilliant poet who’s been hiding her true capability from the world. This is a poem by Federico Garcia Lorca that was translated into English and made into a song by Leonard Cohen. This song was my JAM when I was 20. My JAM. I’m still every bit as hopelessly romantic now as I was then. ::Sigh:: Only question: “12oo windows”? It’s “900 windows.” I mean, “TWELVE” doesn’t even SOUND like “NINE.” If I had written “FIVE HUNDRED” I would have understood, as “NINE” and “FIVE” sound similar…but “TWELVE”? Pretty dorky, Steff.
6.) I blame my love for Jack Kerouac and Ani Difranco.
Dear God, was I being serious about all of this? Or was I just having fun?
Why am I evening worrying about it?
Aren’t I doing this for fun?