writing because i have seven minutes

2002-12-11, 4:47 p.m.

gloomy color on walls and windows. cold feet, and this is no new thing. circulation must be poor, i must have other needs for blood. oh yes, i know, its because i am so tired of this telescope (not what i am looking at NONONONO), and how it makes my day like a horse race. Worse. like waiting for the race with a ticket in my hand for a horse that might not even show up for the race. Yesyes (beats, please shake my body so i can ground myself) its waiting and its looking and yelling to myself as looud as i can. Trumpet calls and excited fans, all of them are standing in pais. Im on the track and i am standing alone, waiting for my ticket to cash in. I am waiting like this man in the emergency room, a father waiting for his daughter on prom night. i am the man with no kids on fathers day, i am the man who cleans the emergency room. (beats keep shaking this table, Sigur Ros).

closed eyes (once again)

blood in my ears

now i am going to go for i have to go. yesyes and i shall elaborate i know it (me that is)