Everything ends. I felt myself silent, completely awake and responsive to the myriad worlds. I felt people move through me. I feel up to something bigger than me. Maybe as big as a house. A marvelous turning takes place in the base of my being, or my spine. I’m working on dying and disappearing. By that I mean I am working very hard at listening and being responsible for something. I am not wrong for crying anywhere. No one has known me my whole life but me. Geometrically speaking, all that two people can do is come together and apart. I am very clear that I am not you. I am I. I can only be exactly who I am. I saw **** and **** and **** and **** and met **** who seems to be a little autistic. I felt quiet and extremely grounded in myself. Completely okay with being perceived solo. A solo is the hardest form because you can only hide in yourself, and so from yourself. I read Wittgenstein in Brooklyn Heights. I considered star-67 calling **** and didn’t ask anyone’s opinion about it. I went to the noise show and got two CDs. I saw so many people today. None of them were you and none of them were me. Just gravity and potential. In my body and the world. I like my house of a body. The many rooms of my consciousness. I stand on a balcony as I wait for the G train.
