But I don't like it. Like the incarcerated gone through the emotions of quaratine I'm still now. I don't look at the days marked out in the wall and I certainly deny my gazing outside. Perhaps listless hours could have been better suited to plans of escape. Why am I so tired from doing nothing. I wait now, as I always have.

as he ponderously inhaled, lazily attempting to form concentric successive circles with smoke as if he had just seen it performed before but had no real interest in the mimcry of its accuracy. He leaned back with a slothful force if such a thing could be accomplished and the aged wooden dining chair-turned backyard divan groaned tiredly beneath the ( Read more... )

As I have come to know the world in my thin aperture of consciousness I perceive what goes on as an absolutely psychotic game of musical chairs. As soon as I've seated myself comfortably to the soft entice of spiritual silence that staccato music whirls around my tired head and through my ears down the various necessary canals of thought into my ( Read more... )

And I'm looking in all the places with pretty lights but they're really thin alabaster white paper galleys illuminated by a florescent nothing to amuse me momentarily so now maybe I can turn my head around to where real ships can sail on true blue seas.

I have yet to find the job that will give me the money (happniess?) to see the year through comfortably. For now I sit in another new room unpacking items neglected in so many other spaces. There's an old nightlight from forever when I used to be scared of the dark in this room but I'm either too lazy or too afraid to unplug it. All I really want ( Read more... )

So watch out where you judge those landmines would work best because I'm not really sure that I'm susceptible any longer.

Yesterday my friend Trip and I unearthed a city-wide martial arts conspiracy whereby warring factions of schools fought secretly for the title of the most powerful dojo. It was a good day. This afternoon I'm writing a paper on Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and its not so fun. I can't wait until I can sleep in. Also I have a childish ( Read more... )

But I'm already taping boxes. On the bright side I'm learning how to better pack with every move.

Its a royal, from the sixties but in pretty fair condition. It lacks an exclamation point and at first that saddened me but upon further reflection I decided that I'm not all that excitable anyhow.

But I do not know the teacher nor the telling suggestions, so until I learn either maybe I'll change my routine every day until I find a pattern that lessens this queasy feeling I've had. Maybe I should talk to more strangers? I wish a lot of things.