i love the extremes of feeling. the heat of summer.

sticky hot nostalgia for childhood summer nights upstairs awake on humid sheets

shades of verdant green deepen brighter on a clouded misty day

being sick with a cold in the heat of summer is not fun

really wishing i had a functioning tv right now

murmurs of sunlit pale

sadness for what i will not feel, cannot feel

the loveliness in everything makes me cry

and yet even when overwhelmed with the loveliness of things, i can't help feeling sad. as though it's all leading up to some impending nothingness. of which i am afraid and yet not afraid enough.

warm sunshine is lovely

i want splendor and magnificence. i feel as though i'm living out the middle of some tragic novel.

ordinaryness crushes me sometimes.

everydayness a weight heavier and sadder than any tragic ending.

moments when i can't see or feel.

worse than death.

i don't want to live my life unknowingly, i want to see and feel always, alive to the beauty in every thing.

but there are always moments of oblivion. i'm so afraid of them. must they be inevitable?

i've been reading too many novels; i want to have a great love affair.

tonight everything is beautiful, the lights of the cars on the highway, the shape of the lines, on the road and outlining buildings. a tightness in my chest, a catch of breath in my throat. alive and awake to it all tonight. overflowing with the reality of it all.

cloudy paling orange over a horizon above a city anywhere.

i love these cool, slightly foggy, humid nights.

happy may day!

first spring thunderstorm. curled white petals blowing across the road. clothes still wonderfully damp.

everywhere today, bending forsythias, persistently springing out in awkward cascades of dappled yellow.

first beach day of the season yesterday; the second today!

i wonder if the last frost has come and gone yet.

i have an online photo account! :
http://s762.photobucket.com/albums/xx261/ingridporsche/me/

actual interesting photos not of me to come i promise.

today; first sudden red maple buds begin to peek as reddish hued peaks surprise slender young branches and a swath of late afternoon sun stretches over saturated treetops.

the way the wind swept half-wet leaves across the road. i felt like fall all day.

link to my youtube account for no particular reason : http://www.youtube.com/user/ingridporsche

just had my first homemade espresso! and who knew there was such a thing as 'artisanal espresso'. i doubt my cheap used espresso maker is up for that. but i love it anyway.

yay for healthcare!!!

i don’t think i’ve ever been in love. and i wonder what it must feel like. sometimes i wonder if i’m broken, if i’m even capable of loving someone. and yet i feel as though i could give myself to it completely, if only something. if only something.

feeling bored tonight and slightly hypomanic; i may have several comments to make. probably rambling.

i’ve discovered i much prefer edith wharton to henry james. to me there’s something distant about the latter and something close and real about the former. and the closer and realer something is, the more beautiful. sad stories all the more.

to feel close and real forever. to feel filled with emotion always.

the description of the heroine in wharton’s ‘summer’, which i’m currently reading, says 'to all that was light and air, perfume and colour, every drop of blood in her responded.’ i feel this way so often. the senses heightened, so alive and awake to the world.

bursting with feeling with nowhere to go but to become words on a page.

darts and curls of self-doubt, seeping endlessly in.

and a handwritten letter.

i need an espresso machine.

wind roars like a slowly advancing army. rain like a marching of hollow footsteps.

saw the symphony. heard it. beautiful and real. lashing rain, my umbrella blew inside out over and over. wet and tattered by the end of the night; i shouldn't have worn my pretty shoes. the city is so exciting. i miss that. broken down trains; rides with strangers.

brimming with feelings unknown

separate and apart now. strange and familiar at once.

highway at night, ahead of me curled like glittering christmas ribbon

i love finding a note or list someone has written in the pages of a used book, or the floor of the laundromat, or anywhere else. that little insight into someone else's world.

water marks blurring blue notebook lines to a puddle of sunlit pale.
that makes me want to run my fingers across it, feel the irregularities smoothed in look but not in touch.
soothing and exhilarating at once, i catch my breath imagining.

lines of pine bristles shivering like threads from an unfinished hem. traffic lights swaying in awkward unison. rain in winter is sadness. even usually beloved storms. snowbanks cradling pavement melt to nothing. artificial rivers carve away the sheltering white like knives. the piercing eyes of passersby. not quite redeemed by my exhilaration in the humidity.

i'm on my second skirt now. the fabric reminds me of curtains. in a good way.

well, healthcare is doomed. in other news, i'm attempting to sew a skirt. dulled yellow linen. flared and twirly, above my knees. morning shadows in the summertime.

apparently i bring bad luck to liberal states.

watching election results come in, feeling nervous. finally living in a liberal state and it had better come through. glad i braved the snowstorm to vote of course.

poor neglected blog, and me with nothing in particular to say. i've discovered that youtube is not nearly as good for music as the site i liked that recently disappeared. if you want album versions and not live ones that is. missing the old playlists.