Today was a weird day. There was no sun, yet rain did not fall. The weather was cold, yet the wind was not biting. And I survived the fast paced Thursday despite the risks it presented. It was just a queer ass Thursday. The first of many I am assured.
I'm falling in love with improv dance. But I'm having trouble listening. I hear myself and what I want to do--but everyone else is so foreign to me. I think its because I don't know many of them. They might as well be speaking Chinese or a quick Russian--because for every word I think they say *I am wrong. I'll find a balance.
I'm convinced that everything is just so weird now because everything is transitional. An awkward state of in between that I don't care to travel though, let alone rest in. It will pass--but the last six weeks have seemed similar to forever. I was hoping this week would be different. And, though it was...somehow, it still made week seven.
forever yours time... I await what the next week holds. I hope for you to be week one, because eight weeks is a long time. And as time goes on expectations and hopes are driven higher out of anticipation. Eight weeks is a long way to fall.
But week one. Week one is a beginning. Week one is closer to the ground.
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...I'm going to need it. I write non-sense. Playing with grammar and its rules, this is a free space unbound by logic and deeply wrought. Words drift down on the page like leaves, fragmented thoughts departed from their owner. Departed from my mind, falling into yours. To either be swept away into the forgotten black bags of yesterday, or craddled between the tender pages of memory.---Yours Truly
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