i suddenly seek a new forest of innocence to hide in
��������� �����a sloppy state. dressed rather cleanly, but feeling sloppy - that sick feeling like barnacles clinging to the insides of your cheek. in all black today, a terrible harbinger of my mood.right now there is dar williams, newly sent over from corey. i think i like how it sounds.
the wintry display outside is becoming slightly fake. the ice shatters and in small bits scatters itself strategically across the asphalt - onlookers assume there was some vast car accident, or the window of a very tall building pulverised and settled down like snow. the layers of snow and slush have frozen into strata of styrofoam.
news tonight as i stood in the cafeteria, about to gather the plastic blue tray with two lonely plates - one with the remnants of pasta, the other with a half-eaten salad. chrystal, the RA on third, is talking about the war situation. "jason tuck, over from the towers, has to be replaced - he's being deployed." i don't really know who that is .. until i remember casey's RA from last year. and then it really hits home - "... and dan pendergast." who i never really knew, but saw everywhere. "he's already over there." i'd always been against the war before, but mostly because of vague, unformed philsophical reasons.
suddenly it felt like the dream i had the night before. standing, still, a visceral contorting in my stomach, looking out of the series of thick windows. on one side of the sky, it was the thick, congealed black-blue that immediately precedes night, fading into a resigned pink-orange on one side. i had a feeling - knew - at that moment, a bomb would drop out of the sky and shatter those taken-for-granted windows. the sky would light up like a drop of yellow paint in a glass of blue-swirled water. immediacy. then a sick green following.
i painted the holocaust in my mind, and then stepped back a moment. broken glass.
later, talking with mark about revelation and the end of all things - apocalypse. a creeping insidious. small animals. slow guitar-plucked music and montages of flame-consumed buildings with sprawled bodies in the foreground.
not in our lifetime. paper-thin sky and shivering pines. gray sky and raped pines. white sky and no pines, no sea.