friday, my leg tingles. it freezes up and i hit it because i believe it's grown numb, but the sparks shock me and make their way to my heart. my heart, it's supposed to pump something like 6800 litres of blood a day, but mine disappears to climb trees and watches the day end in somebody else's body. like everyone else, i'm too late when i discover it's gone.
(...would you change...?)
i think in parentheses and ellipses; i always have. i once labored over letters and spent an average of seven hours per mixed tape.
i'm beginning to believe fluidity, in all its enigma and beauty and sadness, is one of life's few constants. when do you discover the others?
i am hoping in one or two years, i will need to pass a few minutes in an internet cafe somewhere i've not yet seen, and i'll re-read this. and i'll smile, as i often did in morocco - unless, of course, when i realized Dubyah was effing destroying the world.
asdlkrjaewiojulkzjdaoieruailerkjaklwerjelakwjraes.
i cannot CANNOT wait for that man to be tried as a war criminal.
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