Some things you just can't control.
Like the fact that at 1:30 AM last night I lay awake listening to Celine Dion and reading Sylvia Plath poems, after watching a classic love story (Frankie and Johnny), and ingesting copious amounts of Christmas chocolate.
What did I learn from this experience?
Al Pacino has fantastic hair.
Ferrero Rochers heal sorrow.
Love Can Move Mountains.
Dying is an art, and Sylvia Plath makes me want to write poetry again.
Do you know how long it's been since I wrote poems?
A long time.
I used to write them all the time, but then I got distracted by writing song lyrics... And reflections.... long-winded episodes of prose, which turned into the inevitable short story, which turned into the inescapable novel.
Along the way, poems were forgotten. I'm still not sure I could just pick them up again. Poems are hard.
Another thing I learned about myself last night was that I have the strong likelihood to end up alone. I mean really. Shortly after I finished re-reading Lady Lazarus for the fourth time, I looked up and saw my life as though I wasn't living it. I saw it from someone else's point of view.
I looked very unapproachable.
I would love to end up with an intellectual, someone I can talk with about books and literature, music and art.... But any man who has the intellect to know Sylvia Plath would turn on the spot and run screaming in the other direction.
Unfortunate, isn't it?
On another note, I wrote a new song yesterday, which I was really excited about becasue I haven't been so musically inspired in a long time.
I dreamed about Titanic last night. Leonardo DiCaprio's deadened, drowning face floated across my subconscious and I felt like I was holding onto his icy hands, instead of Kate Winslet. I'm pretty sure I rolled over, and then started dreaming about being late for work. My boss was wearing a wig, and one of those gross Louis XVI fake moles.
Moral of the story: no more chocolate before bed.
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