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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
2003-10-16, 12:04 p.m.

a slight dervish of mood.

��������� �����wake up.

it's that kind of day. storm's abated, and the world's continuing even though last night could have been the joyous implosion of everything and i would have been satisfied. in three ways, a diatonic harmony to it all. intermittent dissonance, not being able to deal with a member of the cast, gritty pleasure at the relative success of the show in general - and then, euphoria as the wind & storm swept through, just previous to rehearsal. i ran outside in it, hurling leaves up in the air and alternately settling down with a lighter and burning the edges of leaves.

"there's no better smell," i remark idly, trying not to sound too archaic or mystical.

mike's smoking. "i agree," he says. "reminds me of homecoming."

i can't find the right song for today. paging through from vertical horizon to the postal service to the microphones - nothing's connecting with my mood. it's going to be one of those kinds of days, rushing & stopping, rushing & stopping - but for no reason, really.

the list grows: 1) macbeth. 2) memorized scenes by next monday. 3) the d for the p project by monday. 4) a drama lit historical paper, on any one historical aspect of the theatre. 5) box office work, and dealing with coworkers.

all of this is necessary. i have partitioned my mind to deal with what is forefront and what is on the backburner. it's funny, though, when other people try to submerge you with little ridiculous details that you don't have scope or time for. and persist when you say you'll deal with it later. there's nothing more aggravating than a LEECH.

today it's as though - if i were a spanish galleon - i've run slightly aground. manic in mindset, but prevailing for the most part. i've got a crew scrambling around to push us off of the sandbar. my method of dealing with the list of things to accomplish is to blind myself to them and then, all at once, at the very end of my rope, do them. which is a bad way to do things, but i work best under pressure.

and i'm not overly worried about it, to be completely honest. -- one of those stupid days today. i'm so annoyed that i can't find a song, one song, to fit my mood - fall is here, some of the trees have gone anorexic, and some of them are still fully clothed in the oscar de la renta season, bright prom colours, explosive to the eye, musical in their triumphant requiems.

sometimes i wonder if the world itself, society that is, is in an autumn of its own - with people starving themselves, like the trees outside my window - with people just slowly losing grasp on reality. as the australian aborigine apocalyptic truth becomes numbingly clear: the Dreamtime, wherein everything slowly just stops ... making sense -

the clouds are moving faster today than yesterday, and there's less of a wind than today. autumn is a light sleeper, it tosses & turns in its sleep -

it's a lo-fi day. full of crackling, miserable vinyl, and the plaintive voice of someone whose heart is breaking for someone or breaking for money. in any case. back to you, toph.

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�SEH