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11.28.01 - 10:29

there are a lot of things that i know but not many that i understand besides these: a,b,c,x,$,1,2,3 and so on. she asked me if i dreamt in color and i said of course and later that night i dreamt in grayscale and the shock of it was enough to wake me. what do the blind dream about, sounds and smells and feelings. i suppose. sometimes i feel so far away from everything, myself, home? but not lost, not exactly.

a running mind commentary: i don't wanna do this. i'm scared for him to come here. i think i love the boy in blue next to me or maybe someone in inglaterra. show me simple, write me easy, line after line. i'm gonna miss you. i miss you now. what should i do?

two green exit signs - white guys running each way - but where to go? nobody knows. does it bother you? she said. writing that way? i said no cuz the ink gets in my skin and makes me feel more like a writer, like the ink is my blood and it pours out my fingers like words. maybe everybody's mad cuz i don't wanna read but this way i'm free on paper i'm free ink running blindly out of me.

what's up with this bee. it's too happy and yellow.

this book started out in order and by order i mean chronological order but one day i remembered how arbitrary time is and it stopped being in (chronological) order but i still like to date things. i'm not quite sure why i feel compelled to look at the door when it opens. sometimes he's so cute and sometimes such an idiot and sometimes ugly because of the meanness and you can say only so many times, oh, he doesn't know any better. when i try to write my thoughts everything around me feels too slow to be real and i start to panic. you're deep, huh? he asked. what does that mean? we all are blood and bone under our skins. sitting on this couch i feel on the brink of something, like i'm waiting, like...i didn't know that person walking out of the door either and i didn't think i would but i can't stop looking. you cried one night and i watched the tears falling down your face and in the middle of empathy and sad and the wanting to fix it all i felt a little jealous and why? all the tears i haven't been able to cry, the ones i still can't cry, stuck here, just above

when he was talking his cheeks turned red. is he hot in that black sweater? gotta listen, gotta pretend i care. but when i look over corryn's shoulder there's this man with slick black hair looking at me, slick black hair like oil, like OPEC, like baby seal dead in antarctica. can't stop looking to the left to the right. he looks like chris who i used to think i loved. she says longer faster harder but it's all about life - democracy bureaucracy moving forward. reinvest? reinvest yourself in me. drink me with your chocolate brown eyes she says. he just clicks his pens - rhymes words, words that rhyme with freedom. i want you to be free from the ruination - the lack of tears - falling but never hitting ground...

midnight and fifteen. she has really white teeth but not for long if she smokes that much. mmmmm malaga malaga rolls off my lips but scares me just the same. blindness, always turns to blindness. fear leads to blindness, so the book says. i know it bugs you though, what he says, how you ruined his life, his pride. but he is drowning himself in his own stupid words - drowning, always back to water - the ocean, i need to be by it. the ocean's in mmmm malaga is at the ocean i need the water the sound for clarity. don't be jealous. envy is green - put it in the water, swallowed by the sea.

first - turn the page and read what ani difranco says in her tune 'school night'. 'what kind of scale tells the weight of two beauties, the gravity of duties, the groundspeed of joy, what kind of power can quantify elation, what kind of equation could i possibly employ...' second - who cares, we're all sitting here in some dim basement and the monarchy is so 18th century. i make a lot of lists and i would make up things to get to 5 or 10 or 15 until i realized i didn't have to and then you came home with 1 peseta coins and i knew it was all true. i can't remember the feel of falling but i remember the feel of picking myself up off the...ground? i don't know. maybe i don't remember. he'll come and he'll love you. he'll come and he'll love me. and then we go back and the love, where does that go

yes it bothers me but the way my finger itches bothers me and the way chad didn't velcro my shoe tightly enough, it's all the same because i'm done, i'm out of energy and it takes so much energy to love and hate and feel things. i'm not empty, i'm full but i can't tell you what i'm full of, just the feeling, the fullness. i miss the ocean and the blue his eyes are blue like ocean sky and it's not just that it's everything but i get scared when i think about putting myself (so small but still) in his hands.

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