spitting into the coral sea
i'm not one to think my innermost goings-on so entertaining that others would be compelled to follow along.
the truth is i haven't written anything in so long. i've been in a visual stage the past 2 years. but now i feel the shift, the tectonic drift, that is my emotional constitution, moving away from the simple beauty of the visual, to the complexity of the imagistic word.
i can't really say why i'm sad. and how it is that i've never grown up and out of that. it's disappointing really.
but you are knocking at my door: the drift, the hole. i've spent my life falling into and out of you. and again you're here and ready for a reckoning.
somehow i feel trite as a new cure song.