Monday, August 20, 2007

When everything comes together right, I can go for days speaking to almost no one, hiding in my apartment and office, voice harsh and breaking on the few occasions that it's used. The last couple of days have been that sort, settled firmly at the base of my skull. I've been redecorating, writing letters, sitting at my little table watching the rain fall and conducting a listless Proustian review of the fingertips I've known. It's very restful, but at the same time it makes me anxious, like I'm missing something. I'm all hollowed out and still waiting for the next big thing.

I feel on the verge of something, about to fling myself off of some cliff I don't see yet. In two weeks I'll be a year older, and we all know how fond I am of symbolic milestones. Maybe it's finally time for the year of samantha.

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