The other day at Jess K’s birthday party there was a pinata involved. I won a garden gnome and a little composition book. As a result I have been carrying the book everywhere. I would like to share something that I wrote in it:
we stand as observers on the fringe–occasionally entwining ourselves in the dance of humanity only to quickly retreat again and again into our minds; when this happens we are accused of not listening or not being “here”, but we are–painfully so–we just wish we could extract ourselves–perhaps the best trick would be the power to become invisible at will–appearing–reappearing when necessary for human contact. I wish for this–heartily pray for it day after day. But I am not superhuman–just subhuman or whatever is below that or below that–doing a dance to look like i am here or there.
