Wednesday, March 19, 2003

Rockwell

Cashed out for now. Trying to learn something without forcing, without interrupting flow, without viewing normal day discombobulations from being disruptions. Writing somehow bends my thought back on itself in a way I'm uncomfortable with for now, but I've been feeling strangely anyways. An odd yearning for Joni Mitchell, Joni making more sense ever since the after-hours of home departation.

Still trying to gain my footing. Something human was soiled in me some time ago, at the same time that numbers were becoming more omnipotent in my life. Something I'm relearning since this year of my life is all of starting over, sometimes to those who haggle, demand, and sometimes beg.

It's hard. I never quite know what kind of situation I'm going to be in tomorrow. So much death and dying with so much adrenaline attached to it. Anxious. Over small stuff, mostly because slowed old time allows it. Hand wringers. Message leavers. Absent eyes and talkety talks.


Things aren't being marked by words, only feelings blotted among days, dog-earred with fatigue. But some things are so good. Putting together a large puzzle, meeting up with an alabama friend, and playing a game of chess with a 4th grader.


Practical. The practical application after so much time spent living in theory. Learning without the extensive note taking.

Set the brakes and still not stopped. just squealing. But something.