Recent Entries Garion born; thinking of doing video logs - 2012-09-01 I'm married, I'm a prospective father, wow I never update - 2012-05-22 Got the job at the NIA; mother complicates wedding plans - 2011-10-13 Scrawl - 2011-08-05 It's never been better - 2011-06-02
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Derelict reliquaries 2002-06-21 - 12:39 a.m. 
There is no point in updating these days. Life is a crystaline chrysalis, facets of a sapphire looking out to the sun and moon moving across me. The light comes forward, in pink and turquoise streams, momentary diversions. I have the same four thoughts all day. I enjoy this auto-pilot, but I still need to try to find a job. The days are over in a sigh and I look outside past my windows, the entwined miniature trellis, out toward the sea.Salt water is sweet in its briney crispness. The feel of it is so different from normal water: light, grating on my pores like sand if I concentrate hard enough. Normal water spills down the death which clothes us. Warm skin, good skin, playful skin. Life is like a shower, trails of impressions flowing down and along me, lost quickly down the drain or to the air. There is no meaning in this time, just to reflect...yes, refract light and see the sun circles scan past as if by a camera lens. Or the windows of an arboretum suspended high in cloud cover, maybe glass containing oxygen that looks down, down into space and wonders about its limited and confined place. Glass sees so many amazing things pass before it all the time. I can see Valhalla in the dawn, the first lights reminding me there is an end, a dream to consign myself to. I dream about school often, have nightmares, waking to leave behind their meaning and memory like mutual rape gone awry. Just derelict heretics rusting in the sun, quiet, still as a lake. My existence is a technicolored phantasm. |
