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/ november is a month of ghosts

a grey knive lurking on the corner of the bathroom counter, incongruously balanced on the edge - just about to fall - the light of day leaked into the room like dish detergent being squeezed gently out of a bottle, and over in the corner, rats rustled in a paper bag. he walked into the room to the sound of the ceiling fan slowly misunderstood. his left sneaker squeaked slightly. paper in his pocket crumpled up and a blue crayon behind one ear. a muddy cigarette in one hand and no lighter. his eyes are silently stained-glass windows inside a church with no congregation, waiting for the hollow bellpulls - the doorbell of the Almighty. he takes out a sharpie and marks an x on the wall. moments later a fly buzzes fatly in and lands on the ��������������������������������������������spot, preening and humming to itself. below, at the baseboard, an ant trundles in. he looks at the mirror. he looks away. outside, a bird hits the window, and all things still, in hushed������������������������������������������mourning. an ignorant cricket looses a selfish mating call and

2003-04-09, 3:49 a.m.

interregnum-disconnected;[zilch]

��������� �����would enter. but have nothing to say.

.. other than that which makes me apprehensive, which is this Amorphous Horror that is heretofore unnamed.

and will remain so. because that's all i really have to say. right now. for now.

busy. very busy. papers, scenes, cleaning, ideas for the summer ...

more at some point in the near future..

which apparently will be now, not a scant half-hour later, but i still have nothing left to say. dried up and wrung out, but so inspired, so damned up. dammed. paging dr. freud? i have been writing songs and raps. the latest being "spiderwebs in her desire-corners" and this also being the worst song ever penned.

floyd collins, original broadway score, how glory goes. a perennial favourite. only heaven knows how glory goes etc. yodelling into infinitum. or --

the way this is going, i am not getting sleep tonight. so much for the going to bed before 2 and getting up at 8 routine. so much for health. and joy? speaking of. what. no, nevermind. my eyes burn. enough

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�SEH