A

The A train is friendly to my soul. It exists with me to balance life, like a metronome to the musician. It makes life easy, hell, it makes life run. From the Heights of sun and hiding, to the Downtown of people, if I am sad, or alone, beginning or ending, the A train is there for me. It is friendly to my soul.

On a dark February night, there is nothing left but the A. The people are gone, the luck has been wasted, and the love is lost, but there is still the A. On a dirty platform, freezing or swealtering, and the hobo in the corner won't stop singing, there is only one tunnel of hope to see. And out comes the A. Two little lights from the black abyss, followed by a blue circle. And glowing in that circle, is the letter that is my love. Once I see it, I know I will be okay. The A train has come to save me. The A train is friendly to my soul.

Gyro

I live for the man on 57th and 8th. I live for his ripped up 'gyro' hat. I live for his chicken and spices and pita bread. I live for waiting at the corner for the light, and inhaling as much as I can of the beautiful smell. I live for sunsets on Tuesdays and Fridays when there is just enought light to point him out and smell the food before he leaves. With his partner, they close the metal stand, unlock the wheels, and run around, throwing all their weight to one side, and then launching into the evening traffic, like undocking a ship. I live for the glint of his gyro stand in the dying sunlight. And for the fact that he'll be back tomorrow.

Omen

I was sad about the reason I'm usually sad. And then I opened my journal and put it down on my pillow, and the two marker ribbons, tied together, fell in a perfect heart shape. This must be an omen... I'm not sure what though. The ribbons fell on a green pillow, meaning, it was a red outlined heart, filled with green. I wish I'd taken a picture, but I already moved my journal.

This is too weird. What does a heart made of two ribbons, filled with green mean? You don't think so deeply about love and then randomly have your journal ribbons randomly open up into a PERFECT heart. I don't believe in coincidence. This is a warning, a metaphorical expression of my mind, or a foretelling... I'm just not sure which and in what way.

Provoking

I always wanted my blog posts to be thought provoking. But now, I'm not sure if there is anything very thought provoking about September days in a preteen's life. What is thought provoking? I dissed American culture and Human culture, I cried over worthless guys, and exploded in splurges of words that don't make sense. I've written about my neighborhood, my fingernails, my window. I recently did a joint project with one of my friends. That was really fun. Maybe I should do that again. Either one of you, if you want to do a joint post about something like Heartbeat, reply.

What is thought provoking to people? Things that other people point out things that never crossed their minds, or make interesting points on a common subject, or do something strange. Well frankly, I'm quite ordinary, so whenver I'm done discovering things, I've got an issue with this little blog. Maybe I am just cursed with the end of the summer stuff. Finish homework. Last fun. Get ready. Nothing going on, but everything is on the horizon. Happy Labor Day Weekend.

Repost

This is a repost of "heartbeat" because this was a project between me and Lola based off of an earlier conversation. You can see Lola's version of living with an internal heartbeat, by clicking the link to her blog. (her name). Enjoy!

Ba bum. Ba bum. The heartbeat is where I live. Inside of itself, the heartbeat is a world, a society, a culture. Either the heartbeat is all that, or all that is me, and only me. A one person existence that can feed off of itself. Ba bum. Ba bum. Isn't that a bit scary? A bit wrong?

As long as can be remembered, the heartbeat has existed in my head. Like how people hear things? You know what I mean? I hear the heartbeat. Ba bum. Ba bum. But not from my ears like the people do. I hear the heartbeat from inside my head. Ba bum. Ba bum. Because the heartbeat goes on, so do I. It is the metronome, the measure, meter, that keeps all in order. I live, breathe, think, because the heartbeat keeps balance. Ba bum. Ba bum.

I woke up on a Thursday and it was raining. Is it me, or does it rain often on Thursday? The heartbeat answered. Of course. Ba bum. It was about seven in the morning, and the sky was nothing but darkness and navy blue. I got up out of bed so I could go attend my eight thirty class in psychology. My closest friends always told me not to get too involved in the subject, so that I would think I could fix myself. But frankly, I'm fine. Ba Bum. The heartbeat is company to me. So I got up on this Thursday, dreading leaving the house, because the world looked pretty soggy from the third floor. I made coffee. Is it something magical and necessary for college students to live off of coffee obsessively? That's right. Ba bum. It's college. Ba bum. Some people who were willing to believe I'm not insane and talk to me, asked me if I ever got headaches from the heartbeat. And I ask, "Are internal motherly heartbeats supposed to hurt your head?" Unfortunately, this remark tends to loose me those friends that were willing to ask the question to begin with. So I'm a lonely soul.

On Thursday, the sound of rain on the street of Chicago was crazy, buzzing and streaming and flying. IF there aws a sound I recocnized to be getting to me, it was the rain, and the cars sliding on the wet pavement. I walked down the staircase and then I realized, I heard something. It was the heartbeat. Wait! I don't usually hear the heartbeat like this! I'm sorry. I'm dying. Ba bum. Ba bum. I sped down the stairs faster, like running would make the sound calm down. What? Heartbeat got faster and faster, and I panicked, and I ran. I ran past the people, and the people stared. I reached the lobby of the apartment building. Now I understood the meaning of a heartbeat, 'cause it was horrible. Heartbeat was angry at me. And then all at once, as I was reaching for the handle of the door outside, I fell. I don't know why. I was already dead, but I had a last thought. A realization. The heartbeat had stopped.