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Is there a sugar daddy/mama who wants to take me on a date tomorrow night?
Jul. 20th, 2006
I can't fight your war until I'm finished with mine
Like many people, I've been fairly glued to the details of the Israel-Lebanon war, following along, thinking about foreign policy, thinking about having your house get blown up, thiking about death and history, thinking about cultures of war and accountability, and I have some thoughts and reactions and I sometimes think about writing them here, but then I'd be That GuyTM.
Must have disengaged every phase of the stage, with my coming I’m coming I’m coming of age
Hey, remember this style of livejournal entries? With song lyrics as subheadings and vague narratives? I'm really just looking at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
grocerygetter here, I guess. Or sharkysmachine. What the fck is your lj name again? She knows who she is.
And I can tell when you’re mad at your past, because you tend to take the turns just a little too fast
My brain does this thing, it's like click, repeat, click, repeat, click, repeat, click, repeat, click, repeat, like turning the sides of a rubik's cube but always landing back in the same pattern, click, repeat, click, repeat, and then finally, click, slide, oh. There. And there it is. Lately I've been embracing more my tendencies to have visual images instead of words. It's both foreign and familiar and hard. And yesterday on the train, no wait, Tuesday morning on the train, I found someone I hadn't seen in awhile. Lots of things are coming back to me pieces and I'm almost someone else. I am answering the phone and making calls. This came after thinking that maybe my phone avoidance is in a strange way a manifestation of trying not to let people in. So now I'm like, hm, trying answering. See how that goes.
I've been bad at paper journals my whole life, for numerous reasons I'm sure, but one is that my hand cramps and tires easily. But I've written more in my book in the past week than I have in perhaps all of 2004, and my endurance has improved.
Tomorrow I have a writing day and it will be good.
Like many people, I've been fairly glued to the details of the Israel-Lebanon war, following along, thinking about foreign policy, thinking about having your house get blown up, thiking about death and history, thinking about cultures of war and accountability, and I have some thoughts and reactions and I sometimes think about writing them here, but then I'd be That GuyTM.
Must have disengaged every phase of the stage, with my coming I’m coming I’m coming of age
Hey, remember this style of livejournal entries? With song lyrics as subheadings and vague narratives? I'm really just looking at
grocerygetter here, I guess. Or sharkysmachine. What the fck is your lj name again? She knows who she is.And I can tell when you’re mad at your past, because you tend to take the turns just a little too fast
My brain does this thing, it's like click, repeat, click, repeat, click, repeat, click, repeat, click, repeat, like turning the sides of a rubik's cube but always landing back in the same pattern, click, repeat, click, repeat, and then finally, click, slide, oh. There. And there it is. Lately I've been embracing more my tendencies to have visual images instead of words. It's both foreign and familiar and hard. And yesterday on the train, no wait, Tuesday morning on the train, I found someone I hadn't seen in awhile. Lots of things are coming back to me pieces and I'm almost someone else. I am answering the phone and making calls. This came after thinking that maybe my phone avoidance is in a strange way a manifestation of trying not to let people in. So now I'm like, hm, trying answering. See how that goes.
I've been bad at paper journals my whole life, for numerous reasons I'm sure, but one is that my hand cramps and tires easily. But I've written more in my book in the past week than I have in perhaps all of 2004, and my endurance has improved.
Tomorrow I have a writing day and it will be good.