crazy papers. awful timing, man.
juggling too many ideas, possibilities in my head. the ancients visit- and bring with them news and views from their wanderings. I see this again, as a picture. I hope to change this picture- the box, of the regular visitors, and the not-so-regular ones. I see the dimly-lit, smoky room with the electronic music playing at the back- crazy in it's thematic minimalism.
April draws closer, and brings with it hope. Change could come. Things could get better. They should get better. I'm eager to grasp this chance, as if it could be my last. As if this time I could get enough momentum going to break into a run. a release that I so crave.
And yet it's this preoccupation with said subject matter that I really don't need. I think there's a prerequisite here. This bridge to cross, this life to live. This horrid week. Or more..
But more isn't an option anymore. This must END.
Foolish child, stop dreaming.