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Below are the 6 most recent journal entries recorded in lovers' LiveJournal:

Friday, October 3rd, 2003
7:29 am
[ekotton]
it all came rushing back
at sixish this morning, i was supposed to still be studying fro my math test, but i had to stop. i curled up into my blanket and looked out my window and the sun was rising. i turned my discman on and the second song on this mix, (i had forgotten it was on the mix) was The Promise but Tracy Chapman. now, if you don't know this song, i'm sorry and GO DL IT. the lyrics are beautiful and they capture one of the best moments this summer. kelly, the sra, and emily, an ra, sang this song at the talent show and dedicated it to the nevermores. as i listened, i burst into tears, (only after tamar did though!!!) and she was sitting next to me and clari next to her and spencer and eva and jenny and jason and steph and everyone was there in our row. and then behind me was charlie!! and chris!! (amazingness) and mer was IN THE BUILDING (she's even in the video of the talent show) and alice and zara were sitting way in the front. and kim and oren and devon and paca and guy were MCing and pat was doing his funny, apparently toooo funny, thing. and christine and jack and jess were sitting down the row too. and kelly said, "i love you walrus arf arf!" at the end and then i just cried more. i was in a room with all these amazing people and i remember it and i felt it and i know how good it was and how much it hurt to leave and how much it hurts that i can't go back but i wouldn't want to anyways because nothing can replace that perfect moment for me.

"If you wait for me then I'll come for you
Although I've traveled far
I always hold a place for you in my heart
If you think of me, If you miss me once in awhile
Then I'll return to you
I'll return and fill that space in your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting
If you dream of me like I dream of you
In a place that's warm and dark
In a place where I can feel the beating of your heart

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting
I've longed for you and I have desired
To see your face your smile
To be with you wherever you are

Remembering
Your touch
Your kiss
Your warm embrace
I'll find my way back to you
If you'll be waiting
I've longed for you and I have desired
To see your face, your smile
To be with you wherever you are

Together again
It would feel so good to be
In your arms
Where all my journeys end
If you can make a promise If it's one that you can keep, I vow to come for you
If you wait for me and say you'll hold
A place for me in your heart."

sorry, i had to copy them from a website, because SCHOOL CALLS. but i love you guys.

Current Mood: loved
Saturday, September 6th, 2003
10:45 am
[meiskey]
ps/py/px this community is mighty dormant for no apparent reason.
tonight i was studying vocabulary out of my Up Your Score: Underground Guide to the SAT book. i think i'm one of the few people out there that A. does vocabulary on saturday night B. gets depressed while studying it.

i then was able to amass a list of other things that are like vocabulary in that they make me sad:

*s'mores
*salads
*diet vanilla coke
*felicity
*bingo dabbers

and i'm serious. that's not a list of inside jokes or something. those things on the list actually make me sad. they all remind of me of Mer and how great it was to have her around so much this summer. s'mores because we are really good making them with minimal supplies (in any location i guarantee we can find a way to roast a s'more), salads because we made a really good salad, diet vanilla coke because i drank some with the really good salad, felicity because in maine we watched the 12:30 show of it every night before/after missions, bingo dabbers because we bingo-dabbed a car in june and at the ogunquit bingo game we had bingo dabbed eachothers noses and all the old people who were "only here to warm up for tomorrow's game in York" next to us thought we were really really really cool.

this summer i somehow spent more than a CTY session with Mer. This session didn't even have classes, except for classes How to Meet Possums 101 and How Much Everybody Out There Needs to be Fired 545. i personally think that's pretty neat. by the way, i've NEVER GONE TO CTY WITH HER.

Mer is one of the greatest friends anyone can ever have. she somehow understands about everything, is always there for anything, and cares for everyone all at once. amidst the sometime suckiness of the world, she's the most amazing person to have around (also amidst the often awesomeness of life too). She's one of the few people that can restore to me that things can get better when they are terrible, and can keep me in check when i'm off my rocker with bitterness (she's also really really fun to be bitter with. we have already made a list A-Z of things that are terrible). she also sends really good text messages.

side note: mer's on fire brb

okay and while we're at it i'm going to tell a story. alright no i'm not. okay but i have one. so, rest assured knowing that i have a really really good story about mer. actually i have 45 of them.

ok i'll directly quote mer to make up for me not telling a good mer story. "ok! it's 5AM. let's go and pop some popcorn or something now that we can". ok so that doesn't look like a really good quote but i promise it is.

okay well i just thought everyone should know that mer is super great on a scale of one to awesome. so ummm ok. everybody go give mer a hug right now or something. and if you live near her, you should go see her a lot and then i can live vicariously through you, ok? she'll probably even put your hair up all nice for you. oh man i miss her SO MUCH!!!!!

<45
dx

PS johnny and willy called 45 times during the making of this post
Sunday, April 6th, 2003
2:45 am
[willab03]
Fiona
I got to thinking about you last night.

We were watching Now and Then, and it got to that bit where she tells Chrissy her parents are getting divorced, and I remembered standing in the front hall of stinas. You were crying and told me your parents were splitting up.

Then suddenly I could feel the sun, and the way I was slipping a little off the car, my jeans sliding on the clean metal when I told you I was moving. You put your arm out and I lay my head in the hollow between neck and shoulder and I cried into your olive skin. I felt your chin and nose, two separate sharp points on my scalp and I knew you might be crying too.

I remembered the months where only you knew. Where I couldn't explain why I was so stressed. I almost let it slip once. I said something about writing an essay about my grandmother and almost said why, and you had this glint of amusement in your eye. And you smiled when I said I was going to DC over spring break to be a tourist.

It's that same smile you give me whenever your secretly laughing at me. I look at you, your lips tight so you don't burst out laughing and your eyes a little narrow and I know whatever you're thinking. I know it and I know it's true. Just looking at you I know I have to laugh at myself. There's no need for you to tell me I'm being silly, you make me tell myself.

I can't beleive you're so far away some days. You can never leave my life. Someone will always crack a joke about you and remind me. I remember there was a time, about half a year, where we didn't talk. I was so afraid to call, so afraid it would be different. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to tell from the way you said hello just what you were thinking. I was afraid you wouldn't make me laugh so hard at myself. I got so touchy about them making Fiona jokes, because I was convincing myself that it was true, that you weren't real.

But then you're always there. Two seconds and we're on the same ground again. Each a little different, but almost more the same because of it. So many days I wish you were here, so we could bitch and watch movies and eat chocolate. But in some way, I know you are here, your lips a little pursed, your eyes a little narrow, and I can't help laughing at myself.
Thursday, October 3rd, 2002
8:06 pm
[willab03]
Tealer Bop and/or Sissy
I went to bed early when I was a freshman. By ten o’clock my work would be done and I would lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. I could hear my sister on the phone with her boyfriend. She’d hang up, and I’d listen to her at the other end of the hall, washing her face, brushing her teeth.
Every once in a while, while I listened to her down the hall, I would hear her coming towards me. When she got near my door, she’d step more and more softly. Slowly she’d crack my door, pushing it silently open. Then she would pad quietly over to my bed, while I pretended to sleep. She’d lean down, trying not to breath, and tear my covers off.
I’d follow her drowsily into her room. She would turn the Eagle’s up on her stereo and hand me a hairbrush. We’d jump around the room, screaming into the brushes.
“Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses? You’ve been out riding fences for so long now…”
We’d fall laughing to her bed, and lie there breathless. Sometimes we’d climb out onto my roof and wish on the stars with the old rhyme Mom taught us “star bright star light first start I see tonight…” I wish she wasn't going to college.
In the morning we’d go off to school. Teal laughing and blasting the radio. That was one of the best years of my life.
Teal’s room has always been green. We move a lot, so my parents try to maintain continuity within the house. The same rugs, photos, and furniture. And Teal’s room is always green. Fresh minty green with the same ivy duvets she’s always had. In Oakland and Vienna she would dry every rose she got and hang them from velvet ribbons around the room. She’d scribble quotes down on note cards and tape them all over her wall. Sometimes she would call me in to listen to her French essays. Reading them helped her, even if I couldn’t understand. I would sit on her floor reading and rereading the quotes, committing them to memory
“What we do is only a shadow of what we want to do”
“Pull yourself up by your own hair—turn yourself inside out and see the world with fresh eyes”
“We are, each of us, angels with only one wing and we can only fly by embracing one another”
There were pictures, too, of friends from around the world. And some of the two of us playing dress up when we were eight and putting on musical reviews “Willa catapilla” pictures of our family skiing and sitting on porches. I captured it all in my mind. There was no place I loved more than Teal’s room.
When we moved to this house, my mother painted the room next to mine green, “pale mint” to be exact, and put down the same ivy duvets. But the pictures, the roses and the quotes were in a dorm room in Chicago. And I knew for a fact that she danced with her room mate when they both were tired of working.
I got used to that after a while. I could still call Teal and did. I would call her, fingers stiff from cold when I sat in the dark waiting for my parents after rehearsal. I would call her the night before tests, just so she could soothe my nerves, and tell me a joke. She called when the work was too much, or the night was too beautiful for her to handle alone. We got closer still.
Two days ago she left. She took a 100 pound backpack and headed out with fourteen others to the desert for three months. The next day I couldn’t figure out what to do about an event I had to organize. Her phone was on the fourth ring before I realized why she wasn’t picking up.
Somewhere out in a desert my very own Desperado is learning lessons about herself. She’s sweating and crying and burning and grinning and living for herself on her own terms.
The lucky thing is, we’re from the same family, she’ll be sleeping under the stars and it’s in our blood “star bright star light first star I see tonight…” I wish my sister was here.

Current Mood: missing her
Tuesday, August 27th, 2002
1:24 am
[willab03]
Grandpa Brown
I lit a candle for you in the cathedral at Chartre. I knew you wouldn't want me to, but I had to all the same. You would have told me not to waste my money. You would have thought that it was praying to a false God. But I had to do it at the time. I saw all those candles burning, and I thought maybe they made it up to heaven. I knew even if it was a Catholic heaven, or a Jewish heaven, or a non-denominational heaven, you would be there, Grandpa. So I thought that candle might reach you just the same.

I had never been to a funeral before i was your pall bearer. You weren't the first person I knew who died, but I had never gone before. And when we carried you the Preist told us comforting words, none of which I believed. He said you were alive in heaven. That didn't matter to me. You are alive in my memory. Every time you lifted me up on your big, strong arm. Every time you laughed that deep laugh. Sometimes I would hear you sing, so deep it almost scared me.

You were a man of summer. I saw you always at the cabin. You would sit in your chair by the window, and take us fishing at night.

Grandma sold that chair. I think it's best that way.

I didn't always love you. At least I didn't always love you right. I thought, sometimes, that you weren't a good man. You hated the Iraqis. And you were meen sometimes. You were sexist and told me I couldn't drive the boat until I was sixteen, even though Nick and the cousins drove it at thirteen. You couldn't have toasted a peice of bread without Grandma.

But sitting at your funeral I realized what a good man you were. When they stood up one by one in the big dusty church. Old women with wobbly voices who laughed at out-dated jokes, and men who had played too much golf. They stood up and talked about your work with the ophanages. About the time you helped this woman and that. Someone made everyone laugh reminding them of the time you were audited by the IRS, simply because they didn't believe anyone would give away that much money. And you accepted your gay son.

Grandma told me about how you stood behind my dad in all his work. Stood behind him even when you'd get phone calls at 3am saying "your son is dead and we're glad." Stood behind him even though you had never voted democratic before and you were the only ones in town who's son was against the war. And you were proud of him.

And Daddy told me about when you changed things in the church. When you heard Dr King say that "10 o'clock on Sunday is the most segrigated hour in America" and you worked to get the church intigrated.

I thought about all this on the boat last night. We were out on the lake cruising about and watching the sunset.

I realized none of it mattered.

You taught me to fish, that's what matters.

Thank you, Grandpa, for every favor that went unthanked.
Monday, August 26th, 2002
2:21 am
[ekotton]
Dear Uncle Muz,
I love you still. I've been practically living in your house for the past six weeks, but in the past week everything changed. Every time someone comes down the stairs, I have this little silly hope that i will see you, with those bright eyes and gorgeous smile. And you'll say, "Where's my favorite niece?" And I'll run up to you and you'll give me a Muzzy hug, one that's different from all the others.

I hate talking about you in the past tense, because i feel you here. Like today... we were sure you were there. the memorium candle keeps on going out. you always hated candles. seems like you're still blowing them out. :)

Remember your 50th surprise party? haha, there were over 200 people there. this was a while after you lost peripheral vision on your left side. my dad videotaped the entire thing and when you saw the tape a few weeks later, you realized that there was one woman who followed you around, trying to give you a kiss, but never got to because you couldn't see her. so you went to her office in the city soon after and told the secretary to tell the woman that "she owes a kiss to the guy in the waiting room." that was you.

you were the one who the jury fell in love with. you were the one who didn't really like winning cases cause you worried about the other side.

and you always had a good sense of humor. when you had the second surgery, my mom and your wife (Aunt Lisa) went into the ICU to visit you. you were bandaged up and not talking. in walks a priest and starts blessing you. and ya know, we're jewish... so you say, ten minutes out of brain surgery, "excuse me sir, but would you happen to know that prayer in hebrew?" the priest apologized for not checking the chart. "it's ok, i can use any blessing you are willing to give to me," you said.

oh, one more. one time, you were late getting ready for synagogue,you got in a fight with Aunt Lisa, and she left without you. and this was when you weren't allowed to drive. you got dressed in suit and all, made a sign that said "RUSSELL AVE.," walked to the highway, and hitched to synagogue. i have a feeling that Lisa forgave you quickly.

that was you too. you loved hitching and biking and playing hookey from work to just enjoy life.

you are (as the obituary in the Times put it)the "funniest, sweetest, and bravest guy" i have ever known. there are so many more stories.

i love you always.
you are my second father.
i miss everything about you.
keep on brightening up Heaven...
your niece,
einat
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