2004-07-02 - 3:47 p.m.
Memory disintegrates into that same place where awareness and concern go when Sleep rears its empty head.
I am tired. Not now, as you read this, but now as I write this. It has been a long week, filled with a lack of rest. Not a bad week, just one that leaves me gasping for breath at the end of it, with Pixie music dancing in the back of the "Where is my Mind?"
Monday I picked up a collection of books, moving it in the early afternoon heat, and then got back to work in time to stay late, and keep working. I got home and collapsed. Tuesday I went home early to counter my late day, after pickign up more books. Roleplaying ensued, as well as decent sleep. Wednesday brought birthdays and driving. I also aquired Music. Much music should be marching towards me now, carried on the wings of angels. Thursday I did more laundry, and stuff. I also picked up more books. I cannot think of a significant thing to share about thursday evening, but it went on forever. Now a sleepy friday, full of storms and moon. My brain resembling a waking dream, more than a matrix of concepts. Reintegration implies disintegration, and disintegration leads to degradation, and possible re-disintegration. I am melted, by sun, books, and opened eyes. Look not upon this, for it dwells in the lands of shadow and myth.
I had an interesting nightmare last night. Rasputin and I got into a little duel over his attempted return to the material plane. Some disturbing imagry, but I survive.
Is there a tommorrow, or only a yesterday? Is the now a wave upon which we ride, carried on different parts of it, blind to the beach we flit near? I hope some of this sounds cool, cause I am wiped out, and caught floating in a sea of dreams.
I know I missed a week, but I don't know where it went. Maybe I'll be up for tracking it later, through the woods of time, but I might get lost in my metaphores if I keep wandering right now.
