"When you record the moment, you record the death of the moment." -D.C.

Where am I at? And how do I feel? Such complicated questions, every time. Easier to talk shit on paper/in person than it is to cop to the fact that we'd really rather not know.

But know we do! Can't not. Still, "don't waste your worry on me, I always find what I need. Come and go as I please -- I've got my skeleton key." -D

Stuck in this tight spot between wantingwantingwanting and utterly unwilling to give any more than I'm given. Not sure if I should get over this, or just hone it down keenly into the sharpest of survival skills -- exploited in every sense of the word. Follow myself into the foolish fellowship of the fallen, rather than picking myself up again and moving the fuck on? It's only that I'd like to learn to keep still; to cease with the ceaseless motion that's haunted my movements for years now. Learn to sit with it.

"'I miss being strong,' she told me, and leaned down to give me her lips. We went on, reaching out toward bliss & contrition -- but really, it ended there."

Well, well then. And even so. Every minute of every day has a place to be; a person to see; a date to keep. I look around sometimes in wonder, wondering how I made it here with everywhere I've been before. They say hindsight is 20/20; it all looks like a big freakin' mess back there to me. Deductive reasoning be damned!

"I left through her big oak-black front door, seen only in the brief dark of the evening before, and didn't intend to enter through it again."

-L (7/29/13)

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