Friday, April 27, 2012


I am distracted. I know this. I do it to myself. I don't get to work as quickly as I should. I spend hours on Facebook and feel empty afterwards. I watch TV instead of reading. I stare into space and feel my heart beating too fast and I worry about strokes and heart failure and I feel crippled. I feel sort of alone but I avoid the distraction of people purposely unless I am certain the interaction will be short, positive and affirming. Yesterday I heard a scientist on the radio and I downloaded the first chapter of his book and read it straight away and he quoted my new favorite author Haruki Murakami and I felt a loud snap in my head and my eyes started watering and I suddenly realized what all those dreams about houses and rooms and climbing into small tight spaces and striding into open light spaces mean. This fear of death I have is resistance, the preoccupation with this part of the self is such folly, it is sucking the life out of me and I am letting it. I am inviting it in, offering it tea and banana bread, stroking its hair. This morning I woke up early, easily and wrote and I felt like the possibility of entering all those rooms could be the answer to everything.
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