These Days
I don't seem to touch this thing much anymore. I have nothing of substance to say.
My current mode of "being" is essentially get up, tolerate work, come home, pick at my food and then toss and turn myself to sleep.
Sleep is deteriorating. I can't stop the flood in my head. I couldn't tell you all that keeps me up at night, only that there's a *lot* of it.
Sometimes my music isn't lethal or sublime enough. I don't have many books, as far too many books are as affectatious as their authors. Well, Douglas Clegg is tolerable. I can bide my time with some Douglas now and then.
I love my films, however. I sip them like wine.
These days, a guy drops a wrapper on the street and I want to hand him his spleen. A girl arranges a stem in a Japanese floral arrangement and I feel as though my hand just brushed against the Grail.
Some nights I feel like I could devour the world, and then move on to the universe that cradles it. And if that left me with nothing, I would devour all the nothingness that ever was.
Nothing to see here.
Move along.
My current mode of "being" is essentially get up, tolerate work, come home, pick at my food and then toss and turn myself to sleep.
Sleep is deteriorating. I can't stop the flood in my head. I couldn't tell you all that keeps me up at night, only that there's a *lot* of it.
Sometimes my music isn't lethal or sublime enough. I don't have many books, as far too many books are as affectatious as their authors. Well, Douglas Clegg is tolerable. I can bide my time with some Douglas now and then.
I love my films, however. I sip them like wine.
These days, a guy drops a wrapper on the street and I want to hand him his spleen. A girl arranges a stem in a Japanese floral arrangement and I feel as though my hand just brushed against the Grail.
Some nights I feel like I could devour the world, and then move on to the universe that cradles it. And if that left me with nothing, I would devour all the nothingness that ever was.
Nothing to see here.
Move along.