May 5, 2003

  • Rare, uncensored and unembellished personal insight: an account of precisely what I remember streaming while running in just minutes  preceding::


    The spring flowers are fully in bloom; yet the girls, the women are nowhere thusly witnessed by me:  didn’t have a single feminine touch today or even one kind spoken word of welcoming, beckoning, or reckoning; still, quite sincerely, thanks for the memories.  I suck oxygen from the memories.


    Just passed a girl jogging and decided to be me by greeting her with a “How are things looking tonight to you ?”  nonresponse.  she was deader than a door-navel.


    The trees, the clouds, the sky, the moonlight and stars are all now mine.  yet there’s no projection or infusion of shared human connectivity—even psychically.  the world is clearly imperfect—and I am the perfection of that.


    Kurt Vonnegut was found of “so it goes.”  And so it went.  My pure animality alone now brings me solace.


    Once upon a time my feet had wings.  though no longer posed for flight, I’m glad, at least, that not all the foot-feathers have fallen off.

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