I made soup mmm...

Tonight has been lovely, been huge, been verbose. I cleaned my couch that I plan to sell (with amonia) then was overcome by words, words I was saying, words I was speaking, and those I was thinking. I had to start walking just to stop the words from becoming constipated, trapped until my head exploded. I started walking towards people, towards the moon, just down the street, poeticizing in my mind philosophizing down the street, the forward movement allows for order, for thought to continue effortlessly. I got some water, which I decided needed to be dressed in glass so I got a Perrier, which is also fizzy, a rare treat because while I distinctly don't like fizzy water it is such a rarity considering my distaste it can be a treat in a new way, like an accessory, a beautiful variation or addition to every day life. It reminded me of going to Stu's house late one night with Genpo Roshi and Stu handing me an offering of fizzy water in a pink Nalgene bottle. What a fantastic gift. This is a gift. Every fantastic sight everything created by us, this life, it is such a gift. I was so grateful for walking for drinking for thinking for words and meaning symbols like those fantastic google chat hearts (which I considered for a good fifteen minuets strolling down the darkened street). I never liked the heart shape, bright red gaudy or bulbous ones, hot pink bubble gum colored ones. In school I never liked drawing them because mine were always thin and curvy. Google chat hearts are the perfect symbol for what I mean by a heart soft grey edge the charming animation, the soft pink that fills it in. I thought about words like comport, a great word, or hyperbolize which I decided I must do far less often. Hyperbole is like cancer on language these days. Cancer I decided is something we all get unless we die of something else first. People sometimes say you can never be cured of cancer, you simply go into remission until it "comes back" or you die of something else first, but it is that way for us all cancer is inevitable, love causes cancer. I heard on the news obesity it seems increases your risk of cancer as does most everything that is bad for you. I really don't want to hear anymore discussion on what causes cancer, life causes cancer the body inevitably degenerates and we die. We will all die which puts sort of an immediacy on things. Death will come how must we prepare? I walk around everyday constantly confused by a question, A question that if I even knew what it was might have an answer but alas I am just confused. And answering the question I know will be so joyous will make things easier and harder but it must be done now, for every moment I suffer, I get close to giving up, to wasting my life unable to move on, but abandoning it all to cope to learn to cope is to deny the mystery. I am stuck here, I need to do things I need to know what to do how shall I live? I can't even answer these basic questions as though the obvious, the answers that people exude all around me are what is inhibiting even asking. They lay ground for the confusion and doubt. I would almost prefer a retreat to a place where people are forced to start over where a lineage of thought and evolution is abandoned in order to forage anew. This place is existing now in my head. I wish I had someone I could just talk to who would understand the abstract simple notions I verbalize which make no sense. I hate it when someone is talking to me and I have no clue as to what they are getting at yet here I am doing just that. I went to Laughing goat as I have done twice this week for some reason. It is like I so completely disassociated and despised the place that it is now as if for me it exists far away from boulder, another city or time or realm to me where I can be anonymous once again. I of course saw Michael there but I guess he is the type who can travel to other realms as well ( : Gosh, I have a meeting with this therapist type person tomorrow whom my mom decided I should see since Sally and john and Cord have recommended her, but now I am thinking I should just tell her that I am utterly mad crazy to the extreme and yet quite averagely human as well. Anyway Laughing goat was populated perfectly I could watch people and think, though I had planned on reading Reza Aslan's book (he is one of my heroes now, brilliant man and sooo totally cute to be honest) I however could not focus I was writing poetry all the way there and really wanted to write rather that absorb someone else's thoughts. All I could do was stare at the words picking out ones I liked I also had transmetro but even the pictures weren't enough to keep my mind contained. I had no pen or paper so I asked for a pen, tried to write on an elephant magazine but the material was wrong and the words came too fast and my hand was shaking, luckily I had asked for decaf. I ended up drawing on the back of my check book and then my hand, a past time that got me through thousands of classes throughout my adolescence, starting when I was in 5^th grade. I will probably get cancer from it someday, but you already knew that.

The thing about writing in your head, a stream of thought that is so pure and meandering is that it can never be written down. Writing demands a judgement, further thought and consideration editing which undermines the sentiment undermines the confusion that is inherent in thought the irrationality embedded in our imperfect reasoning.. I'm not going to edit this, to read it over would put me through displeasentries and it won't ever get said. Don't make faces.