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2002-10-30 || 11:13 a.m. || fashioned especially for big feet and broken hearts. || maybe it's genetics, handed down on my father's side, but where my dad has this thing about tennis shoes- wearing navy blue vans well past their canvassy expiration, toe holes large enough to see through, the heels of the rubber soles slapping pavement as he walks through parking lots and supermarkets- i have this thing about relationships. i am genetically unable to recognize when it is time to give up and throw them away. i wear them around the house early in the morning just to remember what it feels like. i leave them lying around in the living room, smelling faintly of sweat and cat piss. splattered and smudged all over them are the marks of rainy days and paint and blood and secret outings to the sea, each one harkening back to a specific point in time. and putting them on is so comfortable, comforting. they fit me perfectly without question, without adjustment. so i am keeping them. just there in the closet. just in case. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |