***stardust

isn't there a song about
too much drama?
listen to the people around you
every single one has something eating away their days
every single group of friends a soap opera inside

Sitting at the top of the stairwell listening
to the neighbors downstairs as they argue
She accusing he
"When you're sad I feel it" "I know
when you breathe because I love you
that much" "God forgive this man for what he
says he's mixing up his words"
"God is my witness..."
She loves him she says her voice sharper than a blade
His occasional protests broken by a smoker's cough
Overheard as I sit at the top of the stairwell
Watching cars go by under golden steetlights
A world in golden grey and green and black
They argue and I'm in awe of the way the light falls on
the black metal railings and the textured brick wall and
my crumpled looseleaf
"You gonna love me now?"
I hear a kiss
And her voice still grates but
perhaps it's always so
Quiet falls
I press play and fall into the world of my favourite band
As I write a story for a friend, the sweet smell of ink filling me
Worlds collide then diverge
never to meet again

Is this how all the writer-girls before me felt, up in the garrets, apart from the world below? Hearing the arguments and lives below but not a part of them, just writing and pulling in wisps of the worlds nearby, spinning them into threads of new colours to work into the fabric?

ok I don't care how lame it all is, I was just writing as I was sitting there writing. ... *laughs* yeah. Spent the night at Mom's apartment, Mom and Mel were trying to sleep and the lights inside were too bright, the door out to the balcony was too loud, so I crept out the front door and sat on the landing just outside it. For like, two and a half hours. After a bit I heard voices downstairs, at first I thought it was Joan-the-crazy-lady talking to herself, but then I heard a male voice so I figured it wasn't. Talking to Mom this morning, they argue all the time, loudly... I don't know. I listened for awhile, trying to make out what was going on, they must've had their door open cos I could hear every little thing (though I couldn't make out all of their words)... And I'm wondering now how much of all that ended up tying into my fic - the whole thing is from Adam's pov, they're in NYC, and he's talking about how he sometimes just sits and spends an entire day watching and listening to the people passing by: "Scraps of conversation and others' observations float in the busy air. ... Still, I enjoy sitting alone at times, observing. It's quite relaxing in its way. There's not the slightest bit of perssure to interact, no concern for what they might think of one, no stake in the outcome nor responsiblity to it. Nothing at all. Just a complacent observer of life."
I don't even know if I would have ended up working in that angle if I wasn't suddenly feeling that way myself, or maybe it just articulated how I was feeling though I didn't realise it...
whee for writing. *G*
But yeah. Who'd have thought that a (mostly) quiet, bland stairwell in a Henrietta apartment would be so inspiring? I wrote like, three pages front and back of my fic for megs (typing it now, babe, you'll have it by the time you get home today ^_^)... mad fun.
Only I didn't get to sleep 'til about 3, and then Mom and Mel were up so I woke up prolly around 8.30, 9am. *not letting self think about how little sleep that is*
Going back to typing now - stuck on dial-up here so yeah.

*Ananda Daydream * 10:16 AM * *

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