Tuesdays...
11/18/03 02:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alasanon...one year later, it's still a Tuesday.
Will you celebrate with me, this year of weekly reminders that we exist, that we are human beings, that I am what I think and think therefore I continue to write on and on and on until the wind has blown a pinhole straight through the mountain? Only a year, my pet, and yet things change with the speed of sand slipping past you on the highway, each grain a moment that could have been.
I have found myself wondering lately, where exactly have I sought this importance, this certain je ne sais quoi that makes up the miracle that is Tuesday? Why is it that I decided that Tuesday would be my day of writing nonsense? I've mentioned before that it's not my birth day (that would be, if you have somehow forgotten, Thursday, in the hour of the tiger in the year of the sheep) and it's not a day that I've ever ascribed importance to before, so...why?
Perhaps it is the sound of the word. Say it with me--"Toooozzzdaaaayyyy" or "Two-s-dei" or "Toosdae" or any of countless other ways to write it, to feel it, to come to your own conclusions.
I'm to the s's, now, in my moods. What do you think I will do when I reach the end of the alphabet? Shall I turn around and start pacing backward? Shall I consider this experiment finished and leave off entirely? Start anew using a complex mathematical or (far more likely) alphabetical equation to decide my order?
I have not decided, but since I have the last several letters yet to work through, I'm not really thinking about it yet.
There is sticky-sour redness on my fingers and the taste of magic in my mouth. If I were to count my months in the underworld in the traditional manner, I'd be a true inhabitant before my sentence was finished.
I will finish my maggot-pudding and go to sleep. Dream of frog eggs and syrupy sweet adder tongues. We'll continue this discussion in the morning.
Will you celebrate with me, this year of weekly reminders that we exist, that we are human beings, that I am what I think and think therefore I continue to write on and on and on until the wind has blown a pinhole straight through the mountain? Only a year, my pet, and yet things change with the speed of sand slipping past you on the highway, each grain a moment that could have been.
I have found myself wondering lately, where exactly have I sought this importance, this certain je ne sais quoi that makes up the miracle that is Tuesday? Why is it that I decided that Tuesday would be my day of writing nonsense? I've mentioned before that it's not my birth day (that would be, if you have somehow forgotten, Thursday, in the hour of the tiger in the year of the sheep) and it's not a day that I've ever ascribed importance to before, so...why?
Perhaps it is the sound of the word. Say it with me--"Toooozzzdaaaayyyy" or "Two-s-dei" or "Toosdae" or any of countless other ways to write it, to feel it, to come to your own conclusions.
I'm to the s's, now, in my moods. What do you think I will do when I reach the end of the alphabet? Shall I turn around and start pacing backward? Shall I consider this experiment finished and leave off entirely? Start anew using a complex mathematical or (far more likely) alphabetical equation to decide my order?
I have not decided, but since I have the last several letters yet to work through, I'm not really thinking about it yet.
There is sticky-sour redness on my fingers and the taste of magic in my mouth. If I were to count my months in the underworld in the traditional manner, I'd be a true inhabitant before my sentence was finished.
I will finish my maggot-pudding and go to sleep. Dream of frog eggs and syrupy sweet adder tongues. We'll continue this discussion in the morning.
