Day: November 7, 2004

I would have asked a week ago, but it continued to slip my mind. Not high on my importance list, sorry. Someone forgot a hundred dollar bill here. Was it anyone here? I thought it would be claimed sooner than later, but no-one’s been stepping forward. I’ve put it on my desk for safe keeping, just tell me where I found it. I’m going to ask around a little, but if it’s not claimed in any reasonable length of time I’m claiming it for myself and giving it to Javina.

a russet just right in the light it’s gold it’s gold

It’s easy to think all the seasons look the same when you live here. Gray skies freeze in place sometime late October and stay until January. Walk along chilly rain and wet leaves clogging the gutter. I know there was sun, I remember heat, light and summertime. Look at this, this is transient, fleeting. It’s darker here than it used to be, the days like the nights, drifting into long lonely times that deserve fires in the grate and laughing friends with wine. Burnished light catching ruby filled glasses. I walked downtown the other night and the windows were already full of christmas. The weight of the world pulling down the branches of treacherous trees.

My brother Robin has joined the family. I’ve given him a name and am going to insist he writes. It should be good. He’s rather literate in spite of being trapped in a clumsy teen boy. My mother would be appalled, I’m sure, but I’ve told him to friend Warren for a good introduction to our networks. Is there anyone else who would like to put in a good word? Larry, I’m looking at you. Plus anyone with art.

edit: My Mother posted! Take a second for her?

Ripped from dreams by a nerve tearing alarm-clock wasn’t particularly nice, but shutting it off was. I was too tired to bother attempting to wake up. I was still too tired when it went off the second time. I knew I had a good hour and half before work, so again I shut it off and fell back into dreaming of streets and people. The third time, however, that I woke up, I looked at the clock and discovered it was exactly the time I need to sign into work. It wasn’t panic that set it, more of an “oh bloody hell” self irritation. Nothing spectacular. That bit came when I was rather forcefully reminded that I can’t actually put any weight on my left leg when I hurriedly tossed my covers off and attempted to bounce over to my computer. I will fully admit that it was a moment of unabashed stupidity. It was also a moment the dogs a block over could likely hear.

I am not going out tonight.

You have your caped crusaders with their epic wars and little guns, but this is my smoking weapon. There’s something in me that wants to write tonight. It could be that I’m stuck at home. I can’t walk right now, a cripple for a day or two because my dancing is hard on the body. I don’t know what the reason is, but there’s things inside my head buzzing. A thought about the girl you told her you loved her, but you didn’t. Was it lying if you thought it was the truth? We’re all lonely, you know. It’s my epiphany, knowing that. I’m in control now of all of you because I’m beautiful. Words and words and words, unconnected by maybe going somewhere. I don’t know what to do with them and I’m tired. Something’s melting in my head.

It feels like a resistance to something, something I don’t know if I can take. I need to be aware at all times of the reality of what’s going on. There is no slipping into reverie. I can’t let go, it’s wrong to. Pragmatic in all, I don’t get fantasies, I don’t picture scenes when I’m reading. I’m not sure why I’m writing this, but I’m dulled by pain and exhaustion. Defenses down and I never talk about it.

I’m terrified of losing control. I usually blame my father but it’s so much more. Every time I grab a lover by the wrist and pin their arm above their head I think how easy it would be to break their arm. Insanity runs in the family, it’s generations of seeing ghosts and demons. Our genetics sing violence. I want it to not be me, but what if it is? I should be fine for now, but what when I head into thirty? I need to be solid. We have a temper, we do. Thick and red, it acidly eats the hearts of our enemies, it stabs and kicks and scalps us of sanity. Mine is so far thrown down that I wonder if I can touch it anymore. I can’t be dangerous, I won’t let me.

Tomorrow I will read this and wonder why. Let me sleep.