I don’t know where I’m going next with this. I’ve been fighting later than late nights for weeks now, you’d think somewhere in the midst of these dozens of single digit ante meridiem hours I would find a few words to say but I’ve been plowing more futile fields than that. Chasing I know not what, I know not why.
I listen to my music collection online, sorting songs from shortest to longest. For a period I collected a lot of strange ephemera online, I have an inordinate number of songs that are less than a minute long. They’re up to 33 seconds and I’ve been at this for a while, now.
I’m sick of this world of late nights online. Pressing the id of the “civilized” world against my eyeballs, putting off tomorrow. How many nights, how much of my life have I spent creeping in the silent hours in houses full of early risers? When I was a youth I wrote thousands of pages in journals during these hours, self-involved, intellectual. They lie in quiescent stacks on a shelf in some closet, my impossible printed hand nearly unreadable to anyone but (more or less) myself. I have no desire to revisit any of these thoughts.
originally posted at spiritofsalt.com Mar 21, 2009 at 5:26 AM
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