Monday, June 27, 2011

A Busy Mind

A THOUSAND things flit through my skull. I can not keep them all, despite my efforts.

Girls, music, wine,
the encouragement of friends for me to join the enthusiastic, rhythmic melee.

All of it not foreign, yet strange and uncomfortable to me in a very familiar set of circumstances.

I know this place.

The language, the street names, no. But this place - an in-between space where I wish both to be discovered, yet not uncovered - is both familiar and disheartening for me.

I want them - THEM - to both break me out of this place that I'm in as well as leave me to stew in my own juices.

This, as usual, I find most annoying and disruptive of others' good times - a state I wish not to be in, but it is the only time that I find my pen and paper inviting. This is not constructive.

[Written 27 May, 2011]

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