Shakespeare Was An Assembly Of Exmoors
2001-04-26 - 9:36 p.m.
Talked to Mitch. I can't think of a better way to have used a phonecard :)
Possibly the only thing that is 'right' and 'just' in life is the feeling that you get in describing something to someone else, so accurately, that you know that they aren't just thinking about what you said, but living it.
Cleaning the wing bathrooms. it's surprising how disgusting these people live, given that they are some of the smartest people in the state. And I don't mean accidentally getting water on the floor when they step out of the shower. I'm talking about someone who keeps missing the toilet when they piss, and the shyt that somehow gets on the outside of the seat cover. Torn pieces of toilet paper on the floor that drive me madd. I'd much rather be doing the dishes. Dishes have remained one of my favourite chores of a household, because it's so much more social. When you're washing out a glass with a cloth, you can talk to someone, but it's much harder to talk to them if you're scrubbing the side of a toilet bowl. Sarah and I do the dishes whenever we're down visiting Mum, and we have the bestest time. When I was little, I'd help Mum with the dishes just so that I could play in the water with my plastic action figures...*sigh*
It's like, there's this force pressing from all sides, very very lightly, less than the weight of a warm sheet on a clear night. Pressing down on Me, four inches below the skin. Feathery almost. And for some reason the only thing I'm conscious of is that I'm not conscious of anything else than that I am conscious that I'm not conscious of anything else...Is this what the feeling of tired is? There seem to be too many feelings to feel, in such a sort time as this. And before one more can be learned, another is forgotten, so that I don't remember what sleep is anymore, it's just incomprehendible...I lay there and think, like a man reincarnated into a pillow. A pillow who knows nothing more than the smell of your hair and the softness of your cheek. We'll be forever, together and gether...reality breech. Doing the out-of-body experience thing...thinking from a spot in my mind three inches behind and five inches above the back of my head. Dolmens look surprisingly like tables to me. Temples my ass.
I went to the mall today...just to be in a place with background mumbling. My own little babbling brook of tranquility. Reality breech has stopped.
