October 15th, 2002

krazy kat

Of the new literacy.

I wrote something the other day. Something I'm actually proud of... something that I put honest-to-god effort into... enough effort to produce but half a page after five full days working on it.


And. Andandand... and... but. But I'm not going to post it here, much as I want to. Because It's Not For You!!! (and, well, if just anyone can see it, it's not special anymore.)

But it was so worth it... so well-received. Well, it wasn't well received. But it just needed a bit of reflection, and then it was.



And no this isn't making any sense. It's of the new literacy, duh! To get in with the new, you must throw out with the old... and whenever you throw out, you are going to lose something of what was; it's inevitable. Or.

Or.
Yeah.

So some comprehension is lost, but don't worry; this new will become ingrained eventually and will make as much sense as the old used to.



She's so so beautiful when she's dreaming. Even just daydreaming. I swear, it was like she was stoned out of her mind or something. But of course she wasn't; like, duh. "High on life," she said. Whatever. She was high on oxygen (I guess), I was just high on her.


And so she loves the cello just as much as I do, ja?

Hum.
Don't worry; I'm still getting used to the new literacy myself.

And it's fucking with my mind as much as it's trying to with yours.

More confusion piled on dizzy whirlwind.

Such a rollercoaster time. So fast, so fast, so fast. What's the fastest rollercoaster you've ever been on? Am I Panda? Or am I just Yoda? Or does it even matter? Was that to be taken metaphorically? Or just at face value?

This morning I was in the gravity well. Yesterday I was sick to my stomach. Yesterday... yesterday. Was it only yesterday? It seems such a lifetime ago. So, so, so wrenched apart. And the day before, like a kid on Christmas eve.

Oh, if you could only see this. But of course, it's not for you, either.

And after all that, I wonder, am I at the crest, or have I slid back down? You never know until you look back on it from a later vantage point, it seems.

Gripping or sliding? I hope the former. I dread the latter. But I guess from my position in relativity, I just can't know. And here I thought I'd bring it to a head.


Curse me.


Rollercoasters are like that.


Barf.








Woof.
I am the Maestro!
(how appropriate)
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