Dat feel when

creation is just one breath away, choked at the larynx, kneaded like imaginary dough waiting to happen between corn-starched hands. Slipping, somehow, wrestling the noose of its own umbilical cord.



Distracted by crawling thought rising like bubbles. Again with this fight for self-restraint, against sinking too deeply, too fast.

And perplexed by the color of a certain pair of eyes.

Livestream 051312

To the request "an elephant." Current desktop & strangely calming despite radical colors.

Eggling Day 164

Couldn't have done this sooner. The poor babies were root-bound to the max. I was hoping I could separate the two to give them more room in the big pot, but it's become impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. Estha and Rahel.

"They were strangers who had met in a chance encounter.

They had known each other before Life began."

(Roy, Arundhati. The God of Small Things. New York: Random House, 1997.)

Hhh

I don't know what I'm doing or what I want any more. And that's a blatant lie. Sort of. If not for this unreasonable fear roping down my ribcage, I should be happy. Giddy, even. Maybe. Hopeful-hopeful and hopping single-footed forward to a prospective next time.

The second hand of my watch makes a tapping-scraping sound every time it hits that piece of crystal smashed inward on its face. Tap. Tap. Not loud, not muted, but a depressingly noticeable occurrence immune to the effect of habituation.

Imposition

I love assuming beyond what is actually the case. Or, maybe only with this one.

Watch the rest of today turn out so inconsequential that I wish I'd chosen the other thing, again. Looks like regret/dissatisfaction no matter which way I teeter.

-

Update: Enjoyable, but nevertheless inconsequential. All is clear; triggers are all that remain. Soft, tangible points of condensed emotion.

And a general reluctance to slash his fragile expectations.