||[Oct. 7th, 2013|11:41 pm]
Its windy and dry. I woke up feeling like I'd reached the point, the crux. I had a clear vision of what I must do, and how my inactivity here is making me unhappy. For a few hours I stalled writing to an old professor and I finally got the words out. I saw my roommate in the kitchen and explained how I didn't go to school because, because, because I had a vision, I have to do these things. Inactivity and sloth and anxiety are killing me. Do I have to move there?
I rode my bike to the friperie. On the way there the wind blew me all over the place, blew dust into my eyes numerous times. It felt like the city was pushing me, somewhere, out? Testing me? I tried on 5 long skirts and a silk blouse but could muster the desire for none of them. Tried on a luxe fur coat but decided my face looked too much like a scoop of icecream or a cherry, floating above it.
I'm writing here because its faster and easier than with a pen. I just need to get the words out with as little interference. Maybe in a time when it feels like you are drifting away from yourself, its good to go back to something you know.