I killed Adrian. He’s lying in the bed puddledead asleep. I decided to show him how to give a massage as I was tired of my shoulders feeling cheated or brutalized.
I win.
Today was work again, and a shifting of plans. I suddenly realized this afternoon that staying the night at James’, no matter how desirable the films and company, when there is a job interview the next day, it isn’t the wisest course of action. Not that I’ve been known for my wisdom for the past few years, but I feel it coming back to me. My reading of the human pages is returning, but slowly. Not quick enough though, it seems. It seems, and seems is all I’ll say, that I am collecting again.
I had a horrible mental image this week. Stalking down the middle of a street, drawing from those following me. Lightning gathering at my hands and calling thunder from the sky. Forks of power built of thier belief in me. My voice could crack stone, because this crowd behind me thought they loved.
I laughed out loud at my minds painful image and at how true some of it was. That truth was painful – especially rememberance of looking back on that very thing not months before and realizing that all the gardens hidden secrets had turned from diamonds to dust from lack of contact. The words and confidences need to be buffed by presence, else they fade and dissolve. Meaningless over the passage of time.
I wonder if I asked, would Jeff paint for me before he left.