I’m stupidly listening to Wolf Parade and am already weeping for Polish Christmas eve, Wigilia. It’s the dinner table, mostly. Being forced to eat whatever’s put in front of me. I miss home. So fucking much. Just as long as I know I’m crying for an actual reason and that plane tickets exist. It’s scary when it’s nothing. I haven't been back for almost ten months. That's the longest I've ever gone. That length gives me this distinct feeling of a definitive line being engraved between my childhood and whatever the hell this is supposed to be. I feel sugary. I had sprats for dinner--deboned, fried and covered in tomato sauce. Thank god you’re not here. Thank god you weren’t. Home is the white space on the page, between the text. And it’s such a comfort. Haha, I made art today. Ha. Ha.
Posted by caroline at October 5, 2005 10:42 PM