i was in tahoe when...

2003-10-25, 9:53 p.m.

so i was in lake tahoe, and i suspect that nobody really 'missed' my journal writings, but i wrote stuff there anyway. here is what i wrote (not all the stuff is relevant to each other, which is kinda obvious).

thursday: past memories hit my face like salty breezes, gaining momentum in the marshes of last year. I remember this movie, Little Monsters, the images of Fred Savage, the horns and the face of his protector. then all the senses are collected into a ball centralized in my brain, fingers could sing on synapses of love; running along the gray Atlantic waves.

Something warm settles in your stomach when ou go somewhere for the first time; regasdless of your reason for going. One could then make the assumption that likfe, if juxtaposed for long enough, could heat up like the sun, and your body could fool the Maja.

When the forests were still black with cover, as i saw tonight, a unicorn could still survive. In innocence, strides could be lengthened in the forest, and she never thought of death by any hunters' arrow. When a hunter would enter the forest, his vision would evade him, and he was blind without the moons gleaming eye. He could hear the sounds that his prey made, unabashed, he would come home lie the beggar from work.

the unicorn enjoyed it very much, her home was a blanket from the cold stars, and from the glaring moon. She laughted when she came to any clearing, she listened to the moons stories with prententions smirks, a thrusted horn signaled hate for the white woman above.

the wind listened to that creature, one thought of as so pure and true that only Aries could compare; the wind heard truth in the branches and the leaves. the wind swirled through the trees and into the village as though a hurricane approached, knocking on the hunters door. the wind woke the hunter up, telling him the news about the unicorns games in the clearing. together, they planned to turn diamonds into dirt.

the next night there were thick clouds, thick enoguh to rob the earth of heaven, so the unicorn unicorn decided to enter the clearing once again. She stamped her hooves in triumph, she felt that nothing could pierce her coat if nobody could see it. waiting in the bushes, with eyes closed in meditation, was the hunter, who had brought his bow and one arrow tipped with an Asp's venom. From the east end of the blanket ed trees, leaves began to shake. With the sound of wind, and the crisp smell of pine, the hunter smiled. A crack formed in the clouds; from it came light of a moon as deep red as pigeon blood. Her white robe soaked with blood, she had heard the whistle approaching, and the dull sound of iron and flesh.

the hunter rejoiced when he saw the body slouched amoung thick grass and moonlight, but a pang of guilt weighed his insides, made his legs like lead. he had listened to the wind, who had no heart and had no soul, his arrow struck with a hollow cause.