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I want to burn with movement

2006-07-05 - 10:20 p.m.

Soundtrack: Seeed - "Stand Up"

My mind and body rage on the wicks of a thousand candles. Spiced requiems to silence the senses, to contain thought in a single, flaring, burning impulse.

I want to dance. I crave it.

To barely feel my muscles knot and wind and twist in play. To burn away the sleepy trance of liquor, breaking through glass, sweat like a thunderstorm.

I want it so badly.

But I am too sick. Rather than push myself too hard tonight and risk several more gently incapacitated days, I'll wait. And focus. And throw pills in my gullet to burn my insides, to cleanse away what is eating me. To walk in the railway stations of normalcy again, trash tribe pantois and a thousand derelict soldiers of wars I've never heard of.

For the time being I'll leak here in peace.

* * *

The last several days have re-acquainted me with my apartment. I have fully cleaned it twice since two years ago, and rarely see it during the day. The sun streams in my bedroom windows like death for a car fire. The blinds are drawn--they're always drawn--but I still have to squint. My eyes are a red rope patina, jade emerald and black at the bullseye of my heroin soliloquy.

My eyes speak the tears of my immune system, these kneeling Italian Catholics.

The bag of tricks and wind-up toys doesn't jangle much. I have been hoarding albums from allofmp3.com. So much cheap, cheap music. I have an entire folder dedicated to it: "From Russia with Love."

Mari keeps a semi-steady fire going in my yahoo inbox with tales of sushi, useless boyfriends, underground bands, all the colors of the semi-hip rainbow. Rachel uses the horn for similar purposes. We've taken to making creative insults to pass the time. And babbling like retards. No. Really. Literally.

On the professional side, my advisor and I have been corresponding over e-mail all hardcore. Revisions, suggestions, insights. I get the feeling he's as excited as I am to bring all of this info to the scientific light of day. It's been fast-going on the 2nd draft. I take it in sprints, then catch my breath with flash animation or reading.

It's going to be big. 14 pages single-spaced without references or figures right now. But at the end of it, I think it's going to be really good.

* * *

I've taken to taking myself for a walk around after dinner. To get the fuck out of windowed rooms for awhile. I only go as far or stay out as long as my tissues will last. They are my scuba tanks.

Yesterday I wandered out of the Subway after having my usual footlong spicy italian on oat/wheat. (The Indian dude who is literally always working there knows exactly what I get. He's as amused by it as I am. He's grown on me, gotta admit). Across the street of all people were Tat, Brian, Tat's b/f Jared and her roommate Liz. Liz'd gotten back from France all sorts of recent, where I'd seen her at Tat's b-day party (which I'll get to later).

I wondered what they were doing on July 4th, what with Independence Day and explosions. Why I hadn't been invited so I could ceremoniously decline. Silly ego shit. I decided to go up to the capital, which was their same direction. I hung back enough across the other side of the street to avoid notice. I didn't feel social. Still don't feel social. I ended up sitting cross-legged on a semi-circle of enclosed stone, surrounded by manicured bushes and grass. Sunlight rolled out like persian carpets onto the nearby palatial luxury apartments, metal cast in shimmering honey-reds and pinks. I looked out to the masonry parapits of churches in the churches and masonic temples. And I swore for 6 seconds I was on another world a millenium ago.

Today was just a trip up along the hill, to, through, and back across the woods, then by the harbor and out along the little strip of underdeveloped city scrag that I like a lot. They're building a structure in the middle of it. Makes it that much more labyrinthian.

* * *

My mind is stuck on the dial between and against two radio stations.

I wish my sinuses didn't feel like stuffed stockings.

(And may I just say that Seeed ROCKS MY SICK ASS. Check them out at AllmyMP3.com. At least buy the song up top for .10-.20 cents. This is what music is meant to be)

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