i bet you're teetering on the edge of sobriety
2004-06-29 & 11:12 p.m.

welcome to: something like elation when you first open your eyes, just 'cause it means that you must've finally got to sleep last night. welcome to: the precipice between groundlessness and flight.

i'm tired. working from ten at night until five in the morning. the light driving home is surreal, the conversations with my family, non-existant. too much coffee is consumed, the cigarettes highlight a road somewhere near a bridge. i watch the clouds break open; the lightning tells me many stories, some of which i'm not ready to listen to yet.

but i've learned. i visit my new favorite people in my new favorite bookstore downtown. the boy there wears thickthick glasses and loves margaret atwood and french toast. the woman there knows the people at the feminist bookstore in madison, bringing me a sense of familiarity. although i don't have someone here to rest my shoulder on before falling asleep, i can at least visit this bookstore that smells vaguely of patchouli and damp wood.

i continue to read about girls with extremely large thumbs who defy norms and travel with the wind. i learn italian; i have learned how to say: i like the wind; are there strawberries here; i am difficult; i wish it was night.

and i avoid. but i do it in great leaps and bounds, and i do it to retain sanity. i have enjoyed the company of strangers.

most of all, i dream. and just like it has happened before, my reality will merge with my dreams. they always do.

i bet you're wondering if you woke up today just to learn why the caged bird sings. i bet you're wondering if the goddesses are all crazy, or just keeping it interesting, situationed slightly outside society, at odds with its odd offerings