Thursday, December 11, 2003

Sing Me A Song

My first language these days is jibberish, secondary to English and all these "I know what you mean" 's delayed way after the message has any merit or meaning.

I am struggling with things when I dont want to but other times I could be in the middle of the Indian Ocena, not knowing or thinking it. I bob on the ebb and tide of this Civil War between myself and myself, and try not to think about how much friction is happening.

I try to disappear into it for the ten hours and reappear afterwards. This whole language thing is no use to me for days at a time.

These days, falling in love again with everyone again. It's so hard to keep from getting confused if you understand what I mean from that.

Someday we can ride kerosene dirtbikes in Paraguay until we run out of fuel and hitch a ride. Or maybe drink from tiny cups libation in the Tunisia night. And you can whisper everything you'd like to into my ear in a loud room... and I'll hear whatever I'd like with your breath happy enough and warm.

And jazz we will.