I think writers are part myth. Its not so much a product of the genome though as it is a cloud. Kerouac once noted that all beats shared a deep sickness when growing up, as did I. I remember fever dreams, a salamander ranch on the outskirts of Texas, lying in bed for days. The chill of seeing the weird spiral out growths of skin on my lips, picking them till I bled. Is it possible to retain a past? Why do I increasingly feel a touch of the past? I was a lot older then I’m younger than that now.
Jennifer at work seems cool, jane has befriended her. Jane I remain slightly warry of, she has the cold unaffecting remains of a goth, she hates herself in some.very unpleasant ways. The children shout: teacher andrew, they’re in love with me now. Day.
Entry filed under: media.