2002-09-09
6:29 p.m.
is it the quick-burn fire of desire?
So I decide to stay in motion, because one leg in front of the other in front of the other in front of the other is an order, a structure, a routine to damp days and humid nights. I don't mean the air; here by the ocean all that moisture rolls in and is swept away by breezes and winds. All my insides, though, are clammy. Yuck. I just can't stop feeling distracted. I know it's the time of year, partially, but I know also it's the tectonic plates in my head (if by 'head' I mean 'heart and gut'), shifting and sliding wreaking all kinds of havoc. There are happy homes falling to the ground, let me tell you, and there are mountains where before there was mud, let me tell you, and there is the hugest, most cleansing tsunami, curling over my stories and washing away everything I've been so sure of. And I just keep thinking good god, am I certain of nothing? and then thank god! I'm certain of nothing! and the only thing I know is that I'm happy to be where I am, heavy-footed upstairs neighbours and all. There's one thing that would set me straight right now, and that one thing would also push me right over whatever edge I KNOW is in front of me but can't quite see. There's one thing I go to sleep whispering and wake up clenching between my teeth, and it's been like this for weeks now, and it's not letting up. I'm astonished at myself. I'd be ashamed of myself, too, if this didn't feel so utterly out of my hands. Cause it IS out of my hands; out of them and into deeper, achier places. a bonfire that burns itself so high that it dies?
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