Days and nights come together in a slow falling down

I can feel it coming back slowly, sneaking in again. It's sleepytime waking and hungry to wander, resting all done. Ready for more. It won't be the same this time, never can be how it was and when, because of so much gone past. Ya, it helps a little, the dirty hitchhikers grinning and telling big fat lies about right now and where to, all the while glancing over their shoulder like sneaky devils. 'Course you didn stoled that spare bike and extra suitcase, gonna right now help you transport your stolen goods a little extra further, i don't care.

build and destroy

It is like : let's tear down build up smashing a new world. Make everything new again out of itself, create by changing shape and obliterating. Other times there is just smash and crush to pieces and it feels good so as long as new things get created and shared in equal measure. I'm being a little cryptic, I know. It's mostly an almost unconscious process of trying to do right, keep myself in line. I like to make things, and sometimes I break stuff too.

you just hauntin 'round like a shadow now

Looks like you haven't been around for a while, so I am not sure if this is like writing a letter to the ocean in a bottle or not. but maybe.

I stayed up past my bed time, but it's summer now so the mornings have a lightness that is much more forgiving.

. . .

Today was feeling right and good, and then I went to Albany. Every time I go there it is this wretched, depressing experience to be among the bleak suburban wasteland sprawl. With all the people looking like they've been run through the life sucking machine. Twice. And that all good in the world will be crushed by trite ugliness. I get so sad.

Snow dreams means, let's see you and me laying in the big open wide.

Everyone is letting it change them, and maybe that is the reasonable thing. To be pragmatic. Who they are, how they justify things. Easing into new cars, homes and marriages. It's background too, where they come from. It fits. I still feel like a spy, a invader from the outside. I'll be found out someday. I'm not sure what to do with what I've been given either. It doesn't fit, all out of sorts.

We were talking about this on the road once, that the mark of poverty stays on you some even if you do want to shake it off. Even if you don't notice it, you betray yourself unconsciously. In how you think, eat, move and react. People notice quietly. Though it's more subtle now than just being in the free-lunch ticket line, dropped off in the rusted car or mom working holidays.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sneaky sneak is up to elbows in the trickiness. Curious and clever, subject of rambling and moderate self scrutiny.

making islands to have new seashores
(we want, but never ask for more)

These people can be charming, but it does not change the fact that in turn they are also ruthlessly greedy and manipulative. When I get stuck in a meeting I spend a lot of time observing peoples facial expressions and hand movements. It is curious because the more your scrutinize a persons face, the less human it appears. I mean this in the sense that it seems to become detached from the personality that is associated with it, and just floats there bobbing around, squinching and unsquinching. Paperclips and rubberbands have excellent entertainment value when people are mixing technical jargon, ex-wife complaints and drooling over dollar figures.

His evaluations of justice are predicated on whether he is able to take advantage of the situation or at the mercy of it. This is a casual afternoon of boardroom business mentality.

When the friendly local IRS agent came knocking, five moderately rich, old, white men began pointing fingers at each other like kids caught doing naughty in the corner of the playground.

july 16, 2004

Kids are outside shouting and puking up another summer vacation night, they will bed down to a deep dreamless sleep tonight. Technically it is morning, but if you get in the habit of letting a new day in before you sleep and wake up again, time begins to slip away much too quickly. Tonight I am going to stay up and watch the world grow older. It will be a secret between me, the streetlights and the trashman about exactly what goes on.

A desire to be part of something larger than myself, larger than I can create on my own. It is not so much about conformity (which can be a parcel requirement), as it is the desire to build and create collectively. Which is why I tell myself I am working too hard for things that my heart is not with. But the real answer is completely different and somewhat humbling.

He is a Captain of spoken words
(ships of conversation smashed on the rocks)

Words that never got sent

It did not work as I might have wished it, but in the unexpected I learned to find what I would not have known to ask for. I want to explain, but never use quite enough words to give away exactly what I am thinking, or precisely what my intentions were. I think that some of them know this, and I am grateful for it.

She likes to come over to eat, but she doesn't like to wash dishes. Instead she likes to lean against the pantry wall and talk while I wash, which I don't mind. Dishes are beginning to feel mechanical lately, probably because they are becoming an afterthought squeezed between other, larger things.

We were good kids for the most part, and meant the best. But I don't want to just write it off as kids not knowing any better, which I do think is halfway fair. - After she gave all of that, how did she manage to hold herself together (or even have anything left for herself). And I suspect now that she broke down under the strain far more than we knew at the time.

Some people need others to do things which they don't want to, in order to be happy, and don't want to settle for less despite all warnings. It was the unfamiliar, fast rising tide of anger. In the process of diffusing that I lost the will to prevent the situation from happening again. I don't want to yell and scream. Even though I can't even remember the last knock-down, drag-out fight I got into, I can still remember the lingering sick in the stomach feeling that followed it. And it gives me the shivers and makes me gloomy, and a little or even a lot sad about how much needs to be fixed in the world. Broke and breaking, frequently long past repair. There is all this way too much and overflowing, so much that it is easy to feel adrift and confused. But I also like the that there is so much knowledge in the world that it could never, ever fit within a single person, and floats along on this sea of people down through history.

I don't need to send little, detached parts of myself as ambassadors of goodness. You are here, it is better, we can do great things instead. But that never satisfies them.

Words I can't quite let go of

There is a distance between what I believe should be and what is, this difference helps keep me going. It is dark out, I can hear the roar of the crowd from the stadium. It sounds like a wave crashing, and sort of is if you think about all of those lives tumbled together for a couple hours. I don't mind large crowds in open spaces, but in confined areas they make me panic and withdraw. Reflex is easy to write off as fixed response. (don't go, don't change, stop always being the same.)

swing sets at sunset with no regrets (lingering). I was worried that you were growing abstract for a while.

The cross product of elation and despondency

Theirs was a mechanical love. Two automata falling in flawless, synchronized motion together. There was an inevitability to the proceedings, proceeded as planned and allowed by the constraints of the system that engulfed their lives. This predictive behavior allowed the participants to calculate their combined trajectory far ahead of their own time, allowing them to live in the past, present or future of their relations as they pleased.

Somewhere down south worlds collide

Daydreaming yell and run screaming through fields and forests. Four thousand miles with sideways glances and what are the chances to : wake up and find her still there. Words in dreams (and what this all means). It is terrifying to grow close.

Summer feels so fucking good dammit. And you don't like pictures, but do you believe in the past? Do you believe that somewhere back behind us we have a whole lot that binds us together and divides us apart? That we can span this distance which divides us as humans without destroying our identity as individuals. That what we are is contained in what we think and how we react, as well as how we tried to get where we are now, and where we plan or dream to take ourselves in the never so far off future. This is what we are making. This is us doing our best with less and less, and more than we really deserve.

I spent this morning in front of a typewriter pushing letters but not really making the right words. Its tough with words, when you want them to come out right so bad, and wanting it so much just messes everything up. And I knew this, I knew better than to try and make things happen before they were ready. I also didn't want to let all of these little bits of good slip away before I had a chance to understand them and how I fit into what has been going on. But thats a lesson I have to keep learning over and over, to let things come and go on their own time and just be ready for them as best I can.

Keila just showed me good words. It suddenly made me able to write what I have been trying to write all morning and maybe for the last six months. I need to remember that the good in others can take us where we can't go alone.

This is where I start to feel.
This is where I start to understand.

Writing has the benefit of being as close as it is possible for another person get, so I am as open and honest, as patient and thorough as I can ever hope to be.

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