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crowings

Member Since 2004

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Friday May 11, 2007

May 11, 2007
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Tonight is the last hurrah - 13 hours left.

Endless hours spent staring at my belly button... I remember the pang of insecurity I felt (usually a kind of slow tidal ebb, this time a full force frontal) when a cherished one told me it was too big. I'd always thought it was rather formly, a nice provider of spectral diffusion, but this proportionality, this sneaking relativistic dimension caught me blind. However I'm lucky enough not to be bound to such feelings.

This is how I tell people about myself. Please forgive the entrenched sentimentality, any under/overtones of angst, unfulfilled desire, impetus and impotence, the comma splicing. It's mostly an aside: like many people, I sometimes feel impelled to dress up the window frame a bit, inwardly wary of the harsh shuttering of an unobstructed view, unaccustomed pupils helplessly seized and constricted by the rapid fluxation of light.

But of course I've done all this wanky stuff before:

SPOILERS! (Click to view)
"Brittle young cowboys sway forth and back, towards the ignomy of delirium and away from the imperious night. Every subliminal thought a flying cascade of knitted vesper, sanctimonious, every chocolate raisin colored crayon a vestige of someone's forgotten love. How many things in the world still undulate? How much time is left for the hung out hairdressers, the dry husks of twilight and the opaque dawn ahead? For a go ahead, simply reach out to the nearest tree, the billows fraught with lightning reflexes and swaying semi-softly against their own volition. Never mind their gentle tumult. Next time you go outside, look up, look away, look towards the starry masses of the heavens and think to yourself: am I really that far away? But don't actually think it, just reach out with a sickly warm smile and a toddering heart beside you, leave yourself open to the impossibility of gravity, triumph over the endless arc, twitch in the dew again, and leave it to someone else, for another time but not the next. A doorstep is never a step away. Plenty of nomads and gnarled gnomes wish well upon you, but theirs is a sanctity best left for the wolves, a hungry kind of pestering, simple and delightful."


Long lines and little recollection: it's been a while since I woke up with scraps like that in my pocket. As I've noted before, this odd ramble being the only evidence of my ghostly trouncing of the night, here seems as appropriate a place for it as any (the wastebasket, you ask?).

As I said, it's mostly an aside. But here's something I should make clear: It's lovely to have you here, wherever and however. Take a few peeks into another's head and you may have the realization. Life is simply too full not to take notice.

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