Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Harold Pinter said it, but i have to live with it. You can make the simplest of small talk, or you can pour out those things you keep deep down, and still, communication can go all awry. I say this but you hear this, you don't say that but i know it anyway (or think i know it). Maybe we communicate so we can hear ourselves speak. That disappoints me. I'd always thought that as long as i opened my mouth and let truth come out, that what i said would sink into the ground like good water, but now i know from experience that it doesn't work that way. I used to keep every single thing inside, but opening up doesn't make me much more understood or remembered. Most of our words just float out there like balloons, strings dangling and waiting to be tied down. I'm sorry i didn't catch your words when you set them free.

See you at the Pole is on friday morning, before the sun rises. I was happy hearing how you'd thought it through, and hearing you tell us to do things we'd done last year. The kind of happiness that fathers feel when their children lead meetings like real adults, but not quite. I shall work on defining this happiness. Sometimes i get that heart-bursting feeling, and i sputter and scare stef, as if i'd really burst. Nobody knows why i burst but i. It's all a mild mixture of feelings, not unlike things i've felt before, but i can't seem to define it. Curiouser and curiouser. If you suddenly turned back you just might see me bursting, and that's not too good. And where's the music for this? There's none, unless you put some on. I won't listen yet. Maybe i'm not ready to live out a new soundtrack. First i must be a good watchman, "taking no rest", for the One i love was long neglected while i spent my time on less worthy things.

I would cry if i went to a rock concert. There's nothing to analyze about that in GP. I already swell listening to Queen and Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith on these standard-sized surround sound speakers with the computer's hum intruding. It doesn't even have to be about nostalgia or associated memories. It's the music itself, don't you see, miss tan, it's the music itself.

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