drown yourself
in garbage; nobody can hear you scream.
transatlantic no-bodies taste rubber, and the side of my wrist

imprints, weakness. nice-to-know-you. finger my sore side

left umbrella, personal stare.
cancer friends, perfect strangers.

I left my soul in my other pants, which were stolen.

pecan gravy, with espresso beans.
I grew up in hell, or starbucks. Hitler, my barista.

I find this offensive. my sensibilities, rent sometimes.
bile takes a fever.

cold umbrella, shapely tent, painless toy music.

wet friend, shake your hair, whistle to my sympathy.
I could use someone like you, and then I would regret it.{no I couldn't, and yes I would...if I could. but I couldn't, can't, [wouldn't]}

sensibilities! another piercing hole. rent silk
with no lights on.

nobody can hear you, because you're too
damned
quiet.

{[OH!] my sensibilities, {{carry my umbrella. [pain for johnee's whispers.]}}}

loop together not to find a confine to the spiral,
but to break, but to breathe, and not to find the rebel.

autofeedback on emancipation

to deliver or to not receive
a shock with a quiver, throw the dice
make yourself jump
to deceive

you'll slip on broken walkways, disassemble broken chairs
and fall down icy carriers, make your way up marble stairs

not a time to dissolute the readily-dissolved
but time to flow again and readily-assemble what just could not be
resolved again

broken flow and a wonder toward what-we-came-to-be-here
as I spin-in-a-chair, and
as I look-over-my-shoulder, and
as I go back to the air.

10:25 - I feel ok. Reading about Zen and related pages on wikipedia. Thinking, wanting a new office, trying to get out of

this office.
taking 100mg gabapentin because I haven't had it today. I don't want it, I feel fine! writing this down in case i get

despondent and forgetful.

10:54 - Is reading about Koan meditation a form of Koan meditation in itself?
I'm going to have some tea. white tea w/ pomegranate. haven't had caffeine in a week or so.

10:56 - getting the tea ready and ' perpetual change ' starts to play in my head, as I'm thinking about how time spent thinking

seems always to feel better than busywork.
especially busywork at an elementary school...ei, ei, ei. tea is turning that hibiscus color. hooray! it will be tart, and

full of tasty antioxidants.

10:59 - tea is finished brewing. now it begins resting, if only for the sake of my very-burnable tongue. drinking tea is not

supposed to induce pain and profane language, so I'll let it cool
until I can drink it peacefully.

11:00 - tea time!

11:01 - that hurt a little bit! but not too much. this requires sipping! my mind ponders the words 'minimal thermal exchange'

11:02 - and now I'm brought back to my imagined or real dilemma. it is a dilemma, that just by being a dilemma IS a dilemma.

tea is nice,
but is it a sensory pleasure? my mind wanders to the debate of the struggle against all things temporal. is tea-drinking

sensual? I like the cognitive changes.
are those changes temporary? illusion? should a man be able to walk without crutches, even if he feels like he's got gimp

legs?

11:06 - I've still only had a few sips of tea. I wonder why I resist positive change, positive experience. perhaps it is that

I simply resist experience.
perhaps I make all too many misguided efforts toward realization, and like a fool wonder why my unchanging efforts do not

change me.

11:08 - My mind is getting a bit quicker. Just a little, but it's enough. I look around and I feel less pressure in my head.
I've got a cold, maybe the pressure is from that? arguably not! a fever makes your body sweat. what makes the mind sweat?

11:10 - I feel well! as usual, due to my efforts I cannot tell if this is from the sandwich I ate earlier, the reading I've

been doing, the gabapentin I just took, the tea that I am now drinking, or if I feel a sense of peace. is it biochemical

peace? or real peace? am I such a materialist that I cannot tell the difference?

11:13 - I keep forgetting that I'm not supposed to be editing this as I write. timestamps are there for a reason! I hit

myself over the head with a mental hammer, an imagined blow to an imagined ego, to maybe keep myself in check. a note of

caution about using imaginary blunt instruments to discipline yourself: be wary of imagined contentedness!

11:16 - a tiny bit of jitteriness. I almost just want to say 'jittering'. yeah. a tiny bit of jittering. I'd go back and

rewrite this part but I remembered I'm not supposed to be editing!

11:18 - *note: 11:18 was spent trying to decide what to write in 11:18.

11:23 - got off the phone, explaining to a teacher here that when a message comes up saying "run chkdsk /f on volume c:"
that you just need to hit start->run and type in 'chkdsk c: /f'
I feel helpful, and not as sarcastic as usual! though 'not as' and 'not at all' are different situations.

11:26 - my nose is running, and I'm jittery. how would I feel if I didn't know that word?

11:30 - looking back, I see I didn't explain what my dilemma is, only that there is a dilemma (perceived or otherwise). I

guess this will explain to some degree: drugs are a heavy issue to me. on that I ponder, 'is it MY heavy issue, or just a

heavy issue that I'm involved in such an issue, despite feeling the real or imagined 'heaviness' of it?' sometimes

drug use feels like a long drawn-out process of hopping from one lily-pad to another. it's all going fine until someone calls

you a frog.

11:35 - ' perpetual change ' is still playing in my head. now it's on a great guitar solo. hooray for music!

11:37 - come to think of it, I probably don't know as much about 'hardness' and 'softness' as would be philosophically

beneficial for me to know. seems I let my information-gathering method limit my capacity to gather information sometimes.

11:38 - *note: 11:38 was spent thinking about the film THX 1138, as it usually is.

11:40 - I'm done writing for now. this is quite a bit of text. now I get myself into stance for lunch.

bacon in the fireplace, spinning on a spindle
and it's full of holiday cheer, and also heart-clogging cholesterol.

girl to the right, chewing gum
ignore the flirt, how obvious!

paper ticketeer, trying hard to arrest your good time
try harder, ticketeer, you won't be able to.

second-story soldiers, climbing up a cursed ladder
looking for the paper gold, and finding a dusty attic

birmingham remorse, and a bit of gravy soup with cumin?

toasted jam, only a bit congealed.
only for you, my tangerine queen.

smart, and strangely stupid.
she's the girl you never wanted,
right at your own front door.

fibrous entanglement
on a small, leather-clad backseat.
she knows what to do here.

letter envelopment.
she has the taste to walk away,
and I have my sweet tooth.

under an umbrella,
in the driest part of your town,
she tries to hold a sneeze.

waking up from her sleep,
she can't remember how to yawn,
so she nods right back in.

now she waits and wonders.
now she watches her own paint peel.
now she lifts up her head.

here is where she wanders.
here is where she walks herself home.
here is where I have dreamed.

there is no escaping
the good change that rings in your ears.
there is not a reason.