Toddler in a Donkey Suit, Playing the Piano

Specter of a Woman

All my life I walk around and I see her incarnate in this woman now, and later that one; in the classroom, on the street, in an airplane, behind a cafe window. When will the specter allow us to meet? When to talk of real things? She is always one kiss on the patio, one sincere look in the reflection in the fourth grade music room - and the latter, she was her and then she was not! I rejected her when the opportunity arose years later. She had lost it.

She is the one I can see and look at and never tire of. She is the one who I know immediately, even before eyes meet. I know her fully. All in her face. And this specter, she does not hide behind a hand; no anxious awkward movement can pass from her. She is comfortable. So, so comfortable. And how she moves! How she flees, how her interest in unveiling herself comes and goes. As if she were God. Parsifal's God.

I ought to be ready, at this point, ready whenever I see her to relinquish her back - I never see her twice. As a child, I was naive enough to hold onto her for a year at a time. Back then, I wouldn't even dare talk to her. Now I've lost my discretion. Or gained confidence. Or really just learned that girls want to be talked to. But she - she never needs my attention. She passes through: I will see her walk across a field, and that walk will take 400 thousand minutes. Every step I can watch, and praise - applaud in the way the Greeks did - her heavenly beauty. I can slow it to whatever speed I like (how time is relative!) but pass she will, pass to the end of that meadow and enter nymphlike into the forest, splash mermaidlike into the ocean.

She sits there now, across the way from me. She did not inspire this story, but she did remind me of it. And I have caught glances. A boy writing outside a cafe - I am good at looking mysterious and attractive. I wonder whether I should resign - allow her to pass. I do not always approach her now, I am not so desparate. This specter seems to demand my faith. My absolute trust in that she will deign to grant me her company, that we can be two comfortable ones next to each other. She scratches her ear. Today, I will walk away from her.

WHO THE fuck CARES about the video IPOD?

http://www.nytimes.com/

and why does the NYtimes suck apples dick?

news is the opiate of the masses