Wednesday, March 09, 2005

I’m in between getting demented & balancing my checkbook. Listening to some person named sasha spin records. I presume? Nonessential. I’ve gotta clean the writing up, it’s beginning to resemble a real bric-a-brac, pieces of refuse brought in from the shore with the attempt to coalesce together some kind of menagerie (collage?) of unintentional regrets and joys and sorrows and excitements and disappointments. And hope.

There really is only one life, isn’t there, and this just may be it, and thereby being, there’s something to be said with treating it with a sense of urgency, much as our inner nature attempts to thwart this instinct. Or outstinct(s). it’s really all much more important, not the opposite, as we suspected. Although I still have my doubts.

Am I what I want to be. Struggle takes on comfort takes on dreams takes on responsibility. Throw it all into a salad, the glove does not fit, thereby we acquit? But what. Acquit what. which thread of the quilt is the one that’s rotting away at the seams? And is it the one holding everything together? Will we ever know. “did I take this job for a quick buck?” is that any better/worse than taking it for a long buck? should it really be about “fuck security” or is that an outdated mode of thinking, impossible with the speed of the transmission of information ruling prevalent in our society.

Goddammit, I want to corner it & run away from it at the same time. My guts are gravy. I’m the mouse hiding under the eave cuz he won’t go after that bit of cheese. Trap? Not a trap? At least take a scribble? Nononono. Dammitt, I’ve lost my way again. Hold up.

And of course all prequalifications and eventualities of meaning taking effect ie actual denominations of pertinency, refer to code 7.34 of the rule handbook officiale of the confederate association and you’ll see what I mean, ie, just to check identity I’m gonna need to hold onto your backpack, hippie.