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4:28 a.m. - 2001-12-30
Scrawl
To those it does concern:

Early morning, my favorite time to think. Random indulgences of my memories and imagination. This is the type of entry I would usually scrawl in my handwritten journal, but I felt like typing and posting. It is erratic, and non-sensical. But so are most things near and dear to my heart.

I ask myself sometimes what I am doing in this town and why I came back to her. Once, I fixedly watched the mountains that jaded locals called hills. Now, I stare at the leaves that have died in the face of winter's awe and I wonder why the sky still appears unaffected. After all, everything else is different.

Beer bottles make me want to lick the rounded edges of their glassy surfaces. Alcohol makes my mind slippery, and things slide out unbidden. I think I might be smooth, but hindsight finds me at the appointed times. It all makes for a shot of laughter, straight up, with a splash of chagrin.

I could be the one they adore. I could be my reputation. The Wallflowers sung to me, and like the fool strung upside-down, I leant an ear. Groupies are always too idealistic. They should know that the lyrics of a love song are only applicable to the unattainable. Water does not seek it�s own level; fish seek to fly. And since it happens once and a while, the miracle of evolution continues.

This woman dug into me back on the golden coast, came out with my most secret parts on a platter. She scraped a bit off the edges, swallowed delicately as if tasting caviar for the first time. In a sunset blowing through a beach, she lit some candles for me, for my journey home. This is our time, she said. And we held our embrace as the sky reached towards dusk.

There was this man I knew long ago in the city to the north, he would nestle his body in the crevices of mine. At times, before the dream came to me, I could not discern the differences between his limbs and my own. Some people report this as a pleasant side effect of love. I wonder if I will ever be that safe again. I should be able to save myself.

End stream of conscience. Typical sampling of thoughts running through my head before I relinquish the keyboard (or bedside lamp) for the evening. This time, they wanted out. I know you will read this, and I wonder if you know these words are for you. You are special. To many people, myself included. This is just my way of reminding you.

Dream well.

--S.

12/30/01. 4:26 AM.

 

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