Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly... All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise... blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

notes on a parenthetical weekend 2

Well the lightheadedness has certainly cleared up and I'm feeling a lot less dramatic. Turns out writing about things certainly helps clarify them. (ha! who knew! I've only been doing this since I could hold a crayon...) I'm definately not feeling as spacey as yesterday and with four pages of notes and four pages actual written so far (albeit in a tiny notebook not legal size by any means.)

I'm trying to remember what has happened
(because somethings happen and they are beautiful if only
for when and how they happen),
what has been said (because some things said are
clearer than some things written
(although they tend to evaporate at a much higher rate
which is truly tragic), and finally
string all of these things together in a not cryptic narrative
that will help explain the mystery of my continuing existence.

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