i mean, there was actually a blog with my name, my actual name, containing exactly one entry. i thought i might faint. i've been writing to you for so long now. the thought that it was all just washed away back to the beginning. well, not the beginning, exactly. i didn't even read it.
it was meant to be some sort of manifesto, i think. how you awakened something in me. before i decided it was babies and some sort of boho bali hai.
but the idea, now, that everything i'd said and felt with you here was gone, well, it just sucked. i don't think of this as, like, hemingway's lost manuscripts and carbons. from a writing perspective i think there might be two or three poems that are possibly publishable, it's really just practice writing. but it's us, ya know. where would it go from here.
that's just ridiculous, i thought, it would move and flow somewhere else.
i watched some videos about palm reading. i had forgotten the palm reading i had, wow, must be more than ten years ago now. i had a star, she said, in the art area of my palm touching my heart line, and a fountain. you could really write from your heart. this new video was talking about the fate line. mine is all choppy. also it's pretty faint in places. well, specifically, between my heart line and [which one is this, i think it's] the headline. this section apparently represents the period of my life i'm living now, fate line/career-wise [but that seems opposite from how time runs on the life line], and the section which starts at the heart line is about the fifty year mark.
so, maybe that means i'm about to start some great artistic venture.
or maybe, they don't any of them use the same system. maybe it's all hokum.
a little while ago i was talking to a friend of mine and she said something about glasses. it didn't make sense. didn't you get teased about your glasses when you were a kid, she asked. no, i said, no body ever teased me about nothin. then, today, this other girl i work with said something about red hair and teasing. i don't understand, i said. i mean, in first grade, somebody said something about that to me; i just laughed at em and told em they were just jealous. it never happened again. and it's not like word woulda got around. we moved every six months. i don't get it.
sometimes, somebody says something to me and it bothers me. but pretty rarely. mostly i examine the validity of the statement.
i guess that has to do with debbie heather. maybe that's why i'm mentioning that now.
and i guess from there i got to wonder things. why i lied and told her i liked her shoes. why i look at her to try to see what you see. why not, for years, and then suddenly, yes. i would like to not wonder them. i would like to not care. very much, would i like that.
continuing...
tomorrow probably
i'm tired, and i'm not sure where to go from there
i hope this isn't just totally not what you want
