diddle
day in day out.
ezy pc got no-bodies appreciation to wear out here. all this extra space affords a little experimentation. little keys are tiresome. but like sanity, we get used to it. body and 'i'.
could not sit still for long. the upwelling to gouge at consciousness arises continuously. this 'i' turn inward, and then again. will anything but annihilation cease the activity?
returned to the little cave in the mountains - feel the rain trickle in. nothing can get to me here. the sound of people does not extend this far. it can, but wont. much more luxurious than the attic. thereby filled with the other in an absence. but so what...so is the attic. the presence here is in a phrase of time 'closer'. but in the attic the presence is stacked to the rafters.
when will the (i)Werke(/i) be done? when will it start?
typewriter. book. food. intoxicants. will i run out of paper first, or pens? perhaps words will be in short supply. masturbate rigorously and often. keep the distractions coming.
i miss nothing,
but the intimacy.
chemistry without equations.
hey, if we leave this country will you love me in another?
i'm looking at the split ends of my whiskers, thinking how have i changed. 'i' can feel the machinations of an unraveling self. even the shit is starting to slide.