2003-10-11 00:28:33 (UTC)

O woe is me, poor me

I am staggering down Golf Course Drive, hazy green
playground for the middle-aged white banker men carousing
about in their golf carts, strip of bitter concrete for a
parade of autos, the street that leads from nowhere to
nowhere. A garbage men screams enticments at me, I stare
adoringly at my shadow on the pavement, redwood trees draw
their nueteral shadows across me. I am making this journey
for the 9,435,876,333,569,003 time in my life.
It began at 10:30 this morning in the inner-most realm of
hell, far deeper than Dante ever dared to venture, the
hideous land whose dwellers, dead beyond death, are cursed
failed my driver's test. A freedom denied me. I wanted to
drive around California before I leave this place, go to
the ocean.
Putting all of fantasies aside about my external life, I
see that I am very much alone. Putting all the fantasies
aside about my behavior, I see that it is entirely my
As I enter a new life, I comtemplate the life I depart.
Right now I am stagnating between these two incarnations,
and it feels strange and empty and lonesome to to be so
constantly trapped between past and future. Neither is
blank and yet I fail to see either.