the remainder of the first bath of nicotine of the day, the vanishing intensity of the godmad bloodrushed weight. certainty of the cruelty of matter and individuality, of the preciseness of time.

bright light, california winter, holy wind. i study my reflection in the window of LSA. greasy hair, brown leather jacket, chippewa boots: at last i have achieved that look i envied the clerks at record stores and gaylord’s and the 1369 and so on, or else i have ceased to care all that much.

meine Ruh’ ist hin

interpol, absurd connotation of boston, airplanes, a real winter. perhaps. with all it entails, or perhaps only a little distraction. something to do. dangerous: i live always in danger of becoming something else. no one can figure me out. except, except…

visions of glory.

visions of glory played out too many times, spoken too much, still too powerful. continually running from You.