Secret Pop

Jan 30, 2002

Sleep is for the weak...and the well-rested.

I don't even know what's running through my head tonight. I see ideas fly by like fish in a rapids portion of a river. I can't quite see them to identify them. And I certainly couldn't catch them without the help of a fancy device. Enter the patented Mind Net...

It's been a pretty good day for receiving well-written emails, but the correspondence activity amongst friends who are especially close to me has been particularly paltry. Everyone is so busy or so overwhelmed or so in another time zone or so something or other. I miss the good old days of being able to spill my brain contents on whomever I wished, whenever I wished. But then, I suppose there was never really such a time. Even in my nostalgia, I torment myself by pretending things were always easier than they are today, that they were somehow more manageable or liveable. When one needs companionship -- intellectual or otherwise -- the most, one is most often without it, I find. Either due to a failure of capacity to notice the need for companionship when one has it in abundance. Or due to a balance of things in which it becomes apparent that this time, maybe it's best to get to know oneself instead of flitting from other soul to other soul, hoping not to have to shake hands with the one person with whom one should be most at ease. One one one. What an awkward way of communicating that thought that turned out to be.

How is it that Cal Worthington is still alive, much less unable to pronounce "Isuzu" properly?

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