feels like

It's dark at home (pennsylvania). I was just walking outside with no clue what was in front of me, or to my sides. Wasn't sure if I'd land on grass or asphalt. Didn't care. I was walking slow and rather enjoying my relative blindness. But this darkness, I mean, wow. It feels like something. Not too heavy, but enveloping all the same. I like it.

Things I'm not such a fan of include this suburb. Well, I'm not so quick on the disapproval as I used to be. Before, my fast and anxious mind turned to hate of the people, stores, and horrible politics that imprint this neighborhood. I used to occupy my free time composing and delivering rants to the gossip moms, the dude dads, the platformed girls and the sniggering boys that make up families here. 'Course I never said those diatribes outloud, not in any discernible way. But politics was a place that I tried to channel my alienated(ing?) anger into something vocal and real. It was a violent passion, and perhaps one reason why I've mostly cast it aside. [Note: I'm talking about giving up on large-scale politics/party talk. I'm still an issue person, though even those have narrowed.]

But my point in that last paragraph was to say that I'm not actually so quick to occupy myself with needing to tell people about themselves. I think instead I'm doing a good deal of head-cocking. You know, tilt to the side and try to take another moment to make sense of something that appears fathomless? Well, not so fathomless as to surpass the occasion for a head-cock. head-cock. guess i'm still looking for excuses. maybe i should just report on the surroundings:

so, young girls. in short, ruffly skirts or short, ripped skirts. with crisp colors that graze their bodies. like, white. black. pink. white. white. too much white. and tiny, tan legs that are trying to go on forever, but forever has only been about 15 years or so, so obviously it's difficult. their bodies don't have an accidental part on them, which is to say you get the sense that these girls have memorized what every part of their arms, legs, hair, skin, and clothes look like, complement, and will be read as. i don't know, it's wierd. in reality, they seem to be putting their bodies to work, the work being just going out in the world. and that combination of performance and supreme physical self-awareness is startling and seems impossible. These girls look like they're not expecting anything to change. like maybe nothing has ever changed -- they've always looked this way, were actually plopped down on the sidewalk five minutes ago looking this way. and that look, combined with their being in the middle of adolescence, is really quite odd.

i don't feel like talking about this anymore. are the girls so different now than before? not at all. and that unsettles me as much, too. that i really grew up around this, and wouldn't know what else to expect.