Saturday, October 25, 2008
GHOSTS OF SATURDAY NIGHT
With the narrow-in narrow-out of vision and splendid conversation, I keep myself regularly upright, much as a ship with swaying ballast combats the vagaries of the open ocean. Slow-dancing down a taxi-line, slow-grinding to the shoulders and hips of a dancing body-mass. Smiling out into the banished night. No stars above me. A list of my planets: Earth, Neon, Fluro, Halogen, Filament.
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life feels like live-in-fiction.
2 applications or more are running on my computer/self.
real life and conversations feel like contrived dreamstuff.
manually bookmark reality in my head.
my own fear or fiction which seems real enough on the inside, especially at night.
i am gardening, and the feel of the plants dirt and weather feel real.
some senses are more fictional than others and hands still seem to be earthed properly.
cheers from the stratosphere
lucychili
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