IdleGlory | He had to be a genius or nothing, and since he couldn’t be creative he turned to bohemianism, eccentricity, social versatility, conquests. – Allen Ginsberg

Listening to retro-nostalgia soft rock tunes and love songs, the nineties decade.

Hours and minutes and seconds in white noise, spent sitting next to the radio learning how to (create) mix tapes or wandering around the neighborhood, struggling journeys with rollerblades and or a bicycle, headphones and a jaunty backpack.

I need to stop thinking of writing something (and just write).

I opened an old book compiled from Capilano College, way back in the early 2000s (hah!), poetry and short stories of the like, and found among the yellowing pages a list of speed-dial numbers for my old bedroom phone, a chronological order of close and best friends, cell phone numbers and an old lover.

There’s a full jug of chai, a teapot atop my writing desk that I’m afraid to drink. Observing this jorum of inky liquid and thoughts astray to another friend(s) who loves tea, him and her, that relies on it as a stimulant instead of coffee beans. My personal happiness is hot chocolate mixed with well steeped tea, a clear and sweet chocolate taste.

Everything is moving too fast, I can’t keep up with this generation & the rss reader. There’s always another band to listen, another innovative design to observe, a new photograph waiting to happen and be ushered into the world. I miss those other writers and insightful philosophers and bloggers, that kept away at fancy free and idle thoughts that carved a cozy niche in our little corner of the web. We’re all growing up and it’s always changing.

The photography is less, the writing at the little blog is less(er), and the tweets are briefly descriptive but the boy and I still send emails every other day or every other week. It still feels a little strange, having another someone to share your day with, the little happy ideas or worries, inside jokes and bad puns mixed with palindromes.

I think this is a good feeling, a building of friendship, and the memories are still being built. It stays with you, when you say hello in the classrooms and studying in coffeeshops, when you wave goodbye as the two of you part ways at the closing curtain call.

It has happened before, and it will always happen again I think. This is a something-important I’ve learned from the college years; that people will enter your life as a brief meeting (compared to the human lifetime) and as quickly fade out again, so you should enjoy what time you have together and build memories, laughter and wisdom.

So, I’ve come to the conclusion that,

my twitter poetry drift tweets have decayed because I switched to mobile browsing instead of text (and less aesthetics to keep in mind when second-glance reading in a square box versus a long white snake line)

and

I miss writing in verdana font face.