Dreamstate in the Meantime
ooooh, clever, clever, clever

Desuetude, Dude

2005-09-20
Oh, the grandeur of words.

I am enjoying the passage of time. Which according to some is the way to happiness, you know. I aim to be happy by being happy. I aim to be healthy by being healthy. Yet I have to worship both the dawn and the dusk for without one, where's the other. These binaries, dualisms, these double sided coins. You can't get away from them. Reading doesn't make it easier. Inchoate. My life is inchoate, not over.

You have to live in the Norwegian Wood state of mind. I'm trying. I find I'm suited to being alone. Much more than I supposed when I was alone this summer. It's this freedom to go out of being in that being in gives me. I get another side of the coin. I don't feel touched the way I imagine they do, that fingers are inside their lives, inside them all the time. Not that we don't want that, but I need to know there are doors and walls and guns blockading because within them, what joy, what exploding suns, what monsters and wonders bloom and vine and metamorphose? The crepuscular light! Oh, the dusk and dawn! I think you need the room more than the money, Virginia. You need the walls to be thick and then you need to scream. Even if it's a quiet, whispersoft scream.

I find I'm suited to it. I find I know I have a resource to combat the world's teeth, garrulous as they are. These walls are my archons, my white devas.

I am waiting. This isn't a prison, a palace, a temple. The world's not a morning dew to burn off, nor to siphon off and drink. It serves as a means for everything to live. I am waiting for people, for a person. I don't want to give that person meaning by assuming they'll come, maybe they won't, but I am waiting. It'll be okay because the bed has room for the shadow, it has always had room for the hope I foster. The hope is inchoate, too. The hope is Legerdemain. My captious hopes.

And I will feel your hand on my back. The hair dripping water like an anesthetic. I'll know the right words. We'll turn tigers! We'll turn princes! We'll clap our hands and then our mouths. We'll grow mothy wings and take to air. All this will be dawn and dusk.

10:45 p.m. :: comment ::
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