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As I watch the sights that I’ve seen a million times before grow smaller and smaller in my rear view mirror, I think about all my failures in this city. And a boy. My failures in Los Angeles and failure with the boy are insignificant to the greater picture of this move, yet they’re all I can think about.
We sat down on his couch and he picked up his guitar. I couldn’t look at him anymore. He was winning me over, so I tried to keep my focus on a used piece of floss lying on the coffee table. There was only one sign that a man who once had money, fame, a family, and legions of people who looked up to him lived there. All over the apartment were pictures of the former Mr. W. Young Mr. W. Smiling Mr. W. Handsome Mr. W. All before the switch was flipped. I was drawn into the photos. I couldn’t stop staring at him. Who is this strapping, vivacious young man in the picture and who is that frail, sad, old man sitting on the couch? The apartment was covered in drawing paper taped to the walls. In what looked like children’s handwriting, the words “Don’t give up” lined the room.
I’m trying to understand the psychological undertone of why I’d find someone who looks like Humbert Humbert attractive.
Why is it, that upon being asked what she wanted out of their frequent rendez–vous, she immediately did an impression of a deer caught in headlights and proceeded to zero in on the soup she was eating and exerting all energy on drumming up a witty comment about the root vegetables in her meal?
I sat back in my chair and digested all those forgotten feelings that I just unearthed.
Maybe this will explain some things.
Maybe I was meant to be with a smart, big nosed, categorizable idiot savant.
Maybe I should just stop fighting it and give in to what my inner child has always wanted.
Ok, so if you’re a Jewish-looking scientist who finds dinosaurs, ghosts, or time travel titillating …give me a call?
Just you and me, driving through the desert. I’m watching you, with your hand out the window, your sunglasses on though it was pitch black in the desert, and thinking there was no greater moment than this.
Imaginary Subway Love Story
That’s my favorite book
He says
As I lower my wayfarers to take a look
You sit down in front of me
And say I don’t want to be
Another casualty
Of this crazy
Lazy
Generation
He says
As I lower my wayfarers to take a look
You sit down in front of me
And say I don’t want to be
Another casualty
Of this crazy
Lazy
Generation
Oh, you’re one of them
I say
Let me see your
horn-rimmed
social-whimmed
vintage
drippage
bleeding heart
I’ve seen you before
In a dream
Or maybe more
Like a movie
Starring you and me
and what we could be
Out destiny
Amongst this calamity
You can be my Alvy Singer
I will be your Annie Hall
We will go to dive bars
And analyze ourselves
We’ll name our child Circumstance
Just like the people on TV
We’ll divorce though never marry
And live happily ever after
In our fort underneath the couch.
28 Comments
All these are beautiful, Lauren.
I really love the poem. It paints such a cute picture of how you envision love.
Love it! Don't take it down. I wish there were more bloggers delving into their fictional wanting. Imaginary Subway Love Story is very much like the eccentric insides of my brain where I dream up scenarios in which I will meet someone over a book.
I can just hear this post humming, "will you still love me tomorrow?"
I love how you an string all of that together. Even more, it's great that you're willing and able to put it out for others to see.
I can just hear this post humming, "will you still love me tomorrow?"
I love how you an string all of that together. Even more, it's great that you're willing and able to put it out for others to see.
Funny–it was the Humbert Humbert role that kicked off my secret love affair with Jeremy Irons…
Maybe we both need to look at the psychology of that one…. π
I so admire your courage. Being honest, especially about one's self, ain't easy, and I applaud you for it. I could learn a thing or two from this post. Don't take it down. I need to read it more times than one. Your style amazes me and makes me want to be a better writer, want to find the honesty that is in my core.
"I couldn't look at him anymore. He was winning me over…"
So well said.
Great post. Very moving and honest.
Hugs to you, cysbersister.
Imaginary subway love story! !
Absolutely wonderful stuff! π
Kate x
"We will go to dive bars/ and analyze ourselves…"
Um, I loved everything about what you just posted.
Srsly.
Don't delete it.
Lauren.. beautiful.. please don't delete it. I would like to read it again…
warmly
h
I quite enjoyed this. I haven't been reading your blog very long, but this seems to fit well.
M- Yeah, I'm starting to think my head should think more realistically
ALH- Thank you. Sometimes what we come up with in our heads is better than anything else. Which is good and bad.
Ivan- You know what song always killed me? That Bonnie Raitt song, "I Can't Make You Love Me". Not sure if that is the official title. Too lazy to look it up.
12GreenPixies- I have a great story about Jeremy Irons….
CJSchlottman- I can same the exact same for you. I love the frankness, the rawness, and the heart of your blog. One of my all time faves.
That Gal Kiki- Believe it or not, that line was about the actor Robert Blake. Long story.
Emily- God, I wish the imaginary subway love story was real.
Kate, Amber, Just Me, Randall- Thank you so much!
Gorgeous. I had a little movie playing in my head the whole way through (don't know why but it was just so easy to visualise probably nothing resembling your own visuals but thats the beauty of writing). Just like you shouldn't change your blog overall you shouldn't delete this post.
Don't delete this.
This is awesome.
I'm a new reader/lurker, but please don't take this down!
Well, I must say that I'm not a fan of fiction on blogs, but this one definitely just hit the spot right.You're one of the few that seem to have done it just right!
It was beautiful. Please keep at least the poem up. It was amazing and was the first thing in months that has inspired me to write. Thank you.
Lovely blog!
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"We had been everywhere. We had really seen nothing. And I catch myself thinking today that our long journey had only defiled with a sinuous trail of slime the lovely, trustful, dreamy, enormous country that by then, in retrospect, was no more to us than a collection of dog-eared maps, ruined tour books, old tires, and her sobs in the night β every night, every night β the moment I feigned sleep."
-Nabokov
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diggin it babe,
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Love your writing!
I think these are beautiful. I love the title more than anything…it almost could be a book filled with these, especially if they circle back around.
i am so feeling this! π
That was amazing. The power behind your words leaves me speechless.
Can't stop readin' what you write. Thank you for publishing.