lonely days

finally got around to seeing save the last dance and I have nothing bad to say. nice and simple. my weekend is spent trying to read an academic art book. I drew some odd sketches that aren’t worth taking bullets for. turn in.

turn in early. don’t bet on turning in early. no matter how much I sleep, october, september, shake me by the neck and toss me into the wall when they’re done. so tea. repetitive. themes that keep hitting in whatever direction you’re going. as you experience something yourself, certain ghosts pay visit, and here is what I mean: you get a new car. once you’ve got it, you keep seeing it everywhere. it’s on the brain. before, you’d still see it, but it wouldn’t register. in DC I would see racism, but it wouldn’t register. here it’s more obvious. people drive around in racism cars. so ghosts. (I’ve read the first chapter of Coraline. look forward to more.)

not much has changed. I see more of what’s underneath. I have to follow a particular program to get that degree I’m shooting for. the program is short and requires much less of me than is required in order to get by as the person I know I should and have to be. so what then, after?

certain words will jump out in front of you. imbue. I don’t want you to do the stupid shit. so define the stupid shit. well, everything is like a chain, and on that chain, life is delicate, so you must ask yourself if you think it’s worth it. the violent thing, destruction. don’t lose your way. it is good time to carve out a quiet area to read in. get your thoughts together. thoughts flutter around you like doves. I’m saying go home early if you have to. read in bed.

yes, I do want the luxuries. I remember when life was more hectic, I could not sit still to read, and at times, I felt I could barely write. insanity. writing and reading are a sane person’s luxuries. it takes some money, but not a hell of a lot. there are more expensive “hobbies” out there.

a wind storm
has come
to the
sand bowl
he wakes
up
everything
is scattered
to the
opposite
ends
talking to…
is like
screaming
thru a slice
of b-day cake
absorbent
virtually
sound proof
he looks around
but
is standing
in the
center
of a baseball field
“lonely days are intense” he says to God…

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