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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

2003-04-12, 7:48 p.m.

sehr gut?

��������� �����with a slightly jolting wake into the world this morning, by josie's soft knock on the door - i'd fallen asleep after a too-long-awake session of writing that stupid paper - i ran to class, and left after an hour .. came here, and slept away the rest of the day.

which saddens me in some way, because i hate to waste the sunlight like that. it's still a balmy fifty-nine fahrenheit right now. i stuck my head out of the hall window and breathed in. the moon is near-half, and the clouds scatter aimlessly around. this room is stuffy, though, and the windowfan rotates sullenly, refusing to remove any of the air in here, or bring any in. tomorrow i'll do something, but it's sunday, so most things are closed ... and i think there's something to do mid-afternoon. i could just do work.

someone told me today, "when you're 20, you wanna grow older. when you're past 20, you don't."

i asked, "what about when you're 20?"

"i guess you wanna stay that way."

caught in this for a moment, heedless. my thoughts catapulted forward again - diving through the morass of the depressingly apocalyptic article my paper was on (the population boom on this earth and the effect it's having on third world countries) - skimming through various war-related problems (baghdad, what happens when saddam turns up (ps, a little later - just found this..) - what happens when i marry (wait, what?)

what happens when is a demonic phrase.

listening to the slow movement from the romeo + juliet film. listening to the absences of people. i find that when people are not around me i concentrate on their negative space, the space they would inhabit if they were here - jill laying on the floor, jason in his computer chair, casey laying on his bed, mark sitting up on my bed, maybe amy in the big chair, the hum of the TV. scanning the area. the wash of cool air from the hallway, since i left the door open a crack -

i usually don't do that either, but since jake stops by more often, i like to leave it ajar. that, and the air from the hall window. the air in here is like formaldehyde. i could go shower, get up, drive somewhere, go somewhere, do something ...

but i won't. i'll sit here. and maybe watch the matrix again.

i wish that i had a white rabbit to follow.

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�SEH