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the saddest blog that ever was
11.24.2004:
i turn over and over in my hand the stone so carelessly tossed off his shoulder and try to measure the arc of time in that little trajectory. i think to myself: i've started a story like this before. how did it end? i don't remember. seneca lifts up the stone, my stone, the stone in my hand, covering the well that held the secret of the world and turns to his sentries to say: "i know not whither i am going, but i am hurried on." we must now add to this goethe's beautiful heartbreaking line in werther: i am only a wanderer through the world, what more are you? perhaps those were the exact words in caspar david friedrich's mind when he painted the wanderer above the mists (caspar david friedrich was an eighteenth-century virgo--oh the horror!). and there was naumachy involved in this tale as well, the desperate sea battles of the Trojan fleet seeking helen and defending hellas...
i think about thanksgiving and the red dress i wore with the black cherry blossoms embossed on top and how incongrous it was next to the pile of tricked-out dreamy eyed sweaty pierced bodies composing themselves with such athletic grace upon chris' unswept floury hardwood floor. i think about christmas and how i hate being alone on christmas, and the sea. the wind making my toes curl and the sand squirrels flirting with us along the banks of the shore. i think about flirting. what is there to think about this? phenomenologically speaking, if i in discourse give off the instigation of such as given a, then it can be deduced that if a equals b and b does not equal c, then a does not equal c. as such, i need work on my truth assumptions and deductive logic altogether, obviously. what to say except that i'm sorry. that i'll never do again what i never did before. that you are not wrong and i am not right but the graces never sang to me the way they sang to you. you, you always heard the mermaids singing, that is why i loved you. each to each.
Blog // 2:31 AM
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