'cause tonight, I want to be with you

A trip down memory lane: roaming the mall aimlessly with a friend, flipping through movies in HMV, discussing the merits of cats versus dogs in the pet store, staging a fashion show in American Eagle, sharing fries in the food court, sitting cross-legged on the bus in a heated discussion on the merits of summer romance ... well, it's enough to make me feel like I'm in junior high again.

but the best part of my day resulted from my favorite saturday afternoon activity - tucking into the chapters near my house, and leisurely strolling through the store, sitting on the floor with my back against a shelf and flipping through a stack of books, sipping a hot chocolate and writing in my journal - it is these saturdays at the bookstore that make me feel so sweet and warm and 'right' in the world, somehow. I spend a lot of time in the music section, reading about the beatles and led zepplin and muddy waters. I like the poetry shelf with all of the words and spaces arranged like art ... I almost bought a book of ee cummings', an impusle that I had for at least the tenth time, but left without making the purchase. Leaving cummings on the shelf is like leaving the puppies at the pet store: they do not belong in the store, but at home, being loved (or in this case, read). I like the travel section (I've never been anywhere), and the biographies (people are fascinating!), and the books about sports - some of which are interesting and others which don't attract me. I read about theatre and then about movies and then about art and then about photography. I spend at least 15 minutes at the wall of blank journals, wondering what I would use each of them for, how I would fill them. I am bemused by the self-help books - each one promising some goal that we are all fruitlessly chasing after; happiness, love, success, motivation ... I even saw a book called "How to Change Anybody" which struck me as being sad. I wonder if it is as simple as being a truly good human being; if everything else would just fall in to place. I wonder where I would fit into a bookstore like this - what shelf or category I would be filed under.

Thanks to a gift certificate from my brother, I left with two books:
- "Wicked" by Gregory Maguire, which I am v.excited to delve into
- a small, blank journal to fill up with thoughts that are too personal to post on my blog

And with "Jersey Girl" playing on itunes, I just might be happy as a clam, stretched out on my bed, enjoying what has truly been a day off.

this poem caught my eye today:

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

ee cummings