2003-10-16 - 11:58 p.m.
I wonder why words are so hard to find tonight. It could be the cold making my body shake, or the lack of food. What ever it is it makes the words hard to find.
The light is too bright, to harsh for creativity. And so it brings forth these mundane thoughts. Bring everything back to the hours spent in the pub. Drinking.
Once, when I was young I drank too much. Not once, but many times. But once I drank so much the only thing I remember was leaning against a brink wall, and a young man stopping and asking if I was OK.
I tell this story often. Perhaps in an effort to counter my academic personality, but mostly to remember it, to call it to mind has the result of making me that girl once again. The memory saves me from drinking too much again. I am saved by having such an image to call to my and their mind. See what I am, so I don’t have to be.
This could, if I’m not careful tonight, raise the question of what I am. It’s so tempting to answer that question with the ironic statement “I am not anything”. Especially when I move my head a little too fast, or swing on this chair and the whole room melts. My body shiver and its making me feel like I’ve not slept in seventy days.
I must be something, because everyone is something. But what am I, what am I more than a human? This is nonsense babbling.
