Tuesday
Aprl 7, 1998
Balaclava

feel it now. the lightness lifting. a darkening settling. worry where it will go. think about the way of all things. wonder what masked man generates events and occurences. will I, won't I. I feel so inaccessable. So remote, closed off, shutdown.

feel today as though every cell, every hair, every little part of my body is on edge. head heavy and aching, body slow to move. feeling the fug of indecision. feeling a tenuous grip on life.

I sit here now, and notice that my vine is dying off. the undergrowth has shrivelled, died away. Replaced by stronger, healthier, new young things. paint flakes from my window sill. the weathered wood underneath an unlikely pewter colour.

want to walk away. want to start again. afresh. anew.

For My Listening Pleasure
Radiohead
Pablo Honey