usually i have no real news for the day, just moments

2003-02-17, 12:19 p.m.

there is a pale yellow house that sits awkwardly between two solid white colonial homes. in the front yard there is red gravel in place of grass or flowers. wo orange trees sag with the weight of fruit, changing color like a sunset.

these days, its about the files and what you put in them. all the numbers; dates, times, quotes, code, collections that fit neatly into algorithms. store the date, store the call time, and when you thought to call. write down on paper, or your hand, or the walls, in ink, in graphite, eventually in blood.

------breaking the day in two-------

a long sigh, swollen eyes, earthquake smile, i get up from the tangled mess of a bed on the floor, look around, and its only 3 o'clock. there is sleeping powder racing through my veins, mythical slumbers, my neck is so sore but the colors make up for it all. its like reinventing perception of yellow, red, blue, nothing primary about them, just primal, like the sunrise peeking into a cave.