tuckova

ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things

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Interests: Alfons Mucha, Archibald Leach, big words, Bob Hicok, Brian Eno, Cat Power, Charles Bukowski, Charlotte Masaryk, cheese, clarity, dark chocolate, David Byrne, David Foster Wallace, Dorothy Parker, Douglas Adams, Edna St. Vincent Millay, E.E. Cummings, Frank O’Hara, Fred Rogers, garlic, Gaudi, Gertrude Stein, ginger, Gustav Klimt, Iva Pekarkova, Jane Austen, Jaromir Nohavica, Jeanette Winterson, Josef Skvorecky, Joseph Campbell, Joss Whedon, Just a Minute, Kate Bush, Kurt Vonnegut, laughing until it hurts, Laurie Anderson, Leonard Cohen, little kids singing, Lloyd Alexander, mandarin oranges, making lists, Margaret Atwood, Miss Manners, New Yorker, Paul Simon, performance, P.G. Wodehouse, poetry, Rebecca Solnit, Rob Brezsny, Robert Anton Wilson, Robert Creeley, salt, Salvador Dali, secrets, silence, Star Trek, Stephen Dunn, Talking Heads, Terry Gilliam, things that stain, This American Life, Tom Waits, T.S. Eliot, vegetable juice, veiled cultural references, vinegar, water, wine, W.H. Auden

horses for the poor

I used to wish I were smaller, less physically present, that my giant brain could then be a surprise. "What a firecracker!" Well I don't want that but I did. I still wish that I could be lighter; I wish that I were not held to this place by simple natural forces like gravity and habit.
I wish I could be all the places I want, that I could spend summers in the beer gardens and winters on a beach, that the sun would always warm me and be appreciated by me without needing to go away to remind me of my needs. I wish that warmth could be a default instead of a luxury. I wish I could explore the mystery of freckles and never be sunburned. I wish that when I fell into bed at night I would still feel the salt of sweat or the sea against my skin and it would be enough; I wouldn't feel like I wished someone could hold me.
We use the past tense to express things that are impossible. See how I can follow the rules even when I say absurd things like that, or like this.
I wish that you loved me, wanted me. I wish that when your hands grazed your body like maybe accidentally in the shower or whatever, that in that moment you imagined that they were mine and let them linger. I wish that you woke with my name in your mouth, your mouth like cut fruit forming itself around the sound, and it would be real because you said it aloud.
I wish that you felt like this. 
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