(no subject)
Sort of floating in a mist of determination.
Not truly aware of most things, but everything seems less tangible and more incessant and unyielding. The sheer firmness of everything is astounding. It is astounding just how when I push it pushes back, this invisible wall of matter, a non-barrier of stuff.
When I speak it is not my voice that escapes my lips. It is the voice of some shell of a stranger. My mind is me. My heart is me. The soles of my feet and the calluses on my fingers are me. My voice is wind blowing through heaps of garbage, pointless and unnoticeable. Inside is a flowing rust-hot plasma that drives me toward something much more tangible than the present the past or the future.
Placing my feet one in front of the other is not difficult like it was five months ago. I've acquired a levity unknown to the cement under my feet. Why does the weight sink into the plasma but not into the cement? Where is it going? Floating about inside it seems to go no where, but stays inside and pushes and pushes and pulls. Wrapping its wise little fingers around the unmodifiable being and squeezing, but letting the air pass through. Wind in the willows, stored in the hallows, reminding me of its eventual destination. I can not know where it will go unless I hold it, keep it to myself until I know that the levity's presence cannot be destroyed, until it passes out of the trial stage.
Don't hold on too tight or you might pop your head off, don't let it get too loose. That is what happened last time. Steal Lady Justice's scale and make sure is in its proper location. Let the wind rest before continuing its journey. Travel on vagabonds. Travel to where your going but have some bread and wine. Don't forget to retrace the steps, but no too often or you will get stuck in smaller feet.
Making string instruments out of rubber bands. If not now, then when? Never. No other time than now is possible. It will be over in two months time, and the rubber band can freely snap. It won't be necessary. It will become almost a superfluous decoration. Catch the wind before it catches you. Oh,........and stop talking to yourself in the second person. Twit.