thinkings

It felt like the right moment to do it. And one was taught to trust their feelings. (By society, mind you.) And their feelings were still asleep, so he went to the basement and had some tea and returned to neutral. And he engaged in solipsism. And wannabe-consciousness. The changes are official. No more leaves. Just empty branches and a giving-in that this is going to be “a long December” (copyright Adam ‘I’m a poet, dammit’ Duritz, 1990something). The flag went up and the stadium collective sighed. The prospects of a move up the table out the window, or at least on the wrong side. I wonder how hard it will be. Can I make the change now? Immediately. What is stopping me? Nothing, literally. I have the time. Multiple days and hours. I just have to be alert and wanting. Which has been a particular problem for oh, I don’t know, 5 years. I need to be 25 again. Two Freudian slips later, he could continue in a fashion worthy of a longer sentence, one with a French manicure and the strange sensation of an R.E.M. jangle. And the unconscious kicks in again, the hand moving without cognition. There’s so much to read and so much left to write and I know I am capable. This has been what, five days? That’s not terrible in any sense; in fact, it is delightful. I really want to follow-up on the Verizon gig. I feel as if I might enjoy it. And so it happened: surreality to the banal truth. All in a handful of letting up lightly.