sǝuoſ ǝuıɥsunS | notebook, journal, inter-web log

I am so happy. Sometimes I feel like I am going to lift up off the ground and float away… I get parking tickets, and there is a crack head on the street corner who sings along to a distorted am radio playing full blast up against his ear. The three women sitting on the stoop beside him talk loudly over the amazing distorted version of ‘Spirit in the sky’ the ruined man is listening to. They are talking to each other, but they are staring in different directions. Their beauty reaches into me, and fills me with silver light. I can barely stand it.

The people upstairs have been drinking less lately. They haven’t been stomping up the stairs as heavily, nor wearing their cement shoes as they drag themselves across the floor and collapse into bed with a thud. They play bizarre rock music much too loud and talk at the top of their lungs until at least 3 am. They ride bikes everywhere they go. I love them so much. When I catch sight of one of them I grin, and feel completely full of love and delight.

The man at the indian restaurant I’ve made my auxiliary kitchen looks like he is going to throw up. I smile and he looks down. I am thrilled with his presence. He is so beautiful. He has thick, impossible hair, and glasses that look like they’ve been salvaged from the donation bin at lens-crafters. If I thought he could survive I would give him a kiss.

The young man downstairs is a writer, and a beautiful soul. He radiates light. When I see him I can barely keep from shaking with pleasure and enthusiasm. I play it cool, lean against the wall, maybe put my hand into my pockets, and we casually try to find something sad, or troubling to discuss. I am madly in love with him.

My heart aches with the tugs and yanks of emotion. Love is in everything. I eat a piece of bread with some organic peanut butter spread over the top of it, and sip a tiny glass of very cold whole milk before bed and my heart roars like thunder at the textures in my mouth. The fog rolls in, quickly, quickly down the street in streaming whisps. People’s faces are closed, and distant. The bright red hearts fly out of my chest like bubbles, flying in all directions. Each one alights into the air and soars up into the sky.

I find them all over town. Affixed to cars, stuck on top of people’s heads. sitting on chairs, waiting to be sat upon, in the hands of children, cherished and adored, or smeared all over their faces because they’ve tried to eat one.

I am so happy I feel like I could explode.