Aug. 29th, 2009

Sleepless again, lying in bed thinking about dancing: thinking to myself, my body cannot say complicated things. But why improve that; my mouth can say unimagineably complicated things and still it does me no good. I am not even sure who I am talking to, when I say 'you.'

It's disheartening to think that I have not really moved since I left school, years and years ago -- that I still feel like saying the same things, to the same people. Only the tone of voice has changed. I feel sterile and desperate at the same time -- as poor a pairing for desperation as I can imagine.

I need to stop pretending that I am getting somewhere. I can watch the river just fine from here.

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January 2017

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