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15 nov 2002 / 2:21 a.m.
.:��stolen from myself
i've read a lot today. i am in the middle of three books, different topics, all clamoring for processor time. i went for a walk: pushed myself out in cold air and turned on a hard acid mix (god bless sister-sf) to clear my head. didn't work - thoughts pushed their way up - peripatetic childhoods, Ur plants, prehistory, mechanists, rhyme schemes, thrombosis,
and i stopped and shut my eyes and pushed my grubby fingers to my face, inhaled and
felt immediate experience, i am ideas, and i am skin and smell. i am felt experience, and i am now, and i am ecstatic.
i will not have my ass sold back to me.
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