i rarely update this page - or any of my online pages - anymore.
it's not because i don't like it here, or because i don't want to share any real part of myself. it's because i have too much to say - so much so that i spend the majority of each day in a near-state of overwhemed confusion. then nighttime comes, with cool, broad strokes of deepdark prussian blue and silent, constant stars, and i'm stilled. i know that i could get it all out then, with the moon and the stars and myself and my cat and the dark and this quiet apartment... but by then all i want is to sit and sip and feel it all fade back into focus - the settling of sediments stirred by the drops of the day.
i do write. quite a lot, actually - but it seems that lately my thoughts are like vitreous floaters; i'm can see them clear as clear can be in my perihiphery - grey-black words that drift like fallen leaves across the surface of the still water/white page/blue sky - but jerk away with each attempt at closer, direct scrutiny...
...and i end things abruptly.
it's not because i don't like it here, or because i don't want to share any real part of myself. it's because i have too much to say - so much so that i spend the majority of each day in a near-state of overwhemed confusion. then nighttime comes, with cool, broad strokes of deepdark prussian blue and silent, constant stars, and i'm stilled. i know that i could get it all out then, with the moon and the stars and myself and my cat and the dark and this quiet apartment... but by then all i want is to sit and sip and feel it all fade back into focus - the settling of sediments stirred by the drops of the day.
i do write. quite a lot, actually - but it seems that lately my thoughts are like vitreous floaters; i'm can see them clear as clear can be in my perihiphery - grey-black words that drift like fallen leaves across the surface of the still water/white page/blue sky - but jerk away with each attempt at closer, direct scrutiny...
...and i end things abruptly.
p.s. It is NOT porn.