(no subject)
At work, blank exhausted aching. After Mark left this morning I put on Franck while preparing my lunch. As the piece culminated (that awful slamming shift into minor key) I fell to my knees in front of the refrigerator and sobbed.
I keep doing that.
I've had a strange sense of double vision over this past week. (Only a week? One little week?) I watch my own actions at lyrical remove, describing them as a poetical third party might; framing events, as they occur, in terms of how I may look back on them years hence.
This frightens me, the coldness of it. I fear that, in this way, I could icily take actions I would soon regret. But I don't want to fear my own hands.
I miss Reed. Classes begin there today.
I am really doing this.
I keep doing that.
I've had a strange sense of double vision over this past week. (Only a week? One little week?) I watch my own actions at lyrical remove, describing them as a poetical third party might; framing events, as they occur, in terms of how I may look back on them years hence.
This frightens me, the coldness of it. I fear that, in this way, I could icily take actions I would soon regret. But I don't want to fear my own hands.
I miss Reed. Classes begin there today.
I am really doing this.