10 February 2007

who got out of bed this morning






The excellent part is falling asleep before midnight and waking up with the dawn for a few days, but I can't find who got out of bed this morning. Things keep shifting fairly radically in the psyche lately, and this is profoundly to be wished in Zen, but, whoa, the ornate fictional self gets kinda dizzy. So busy running around its emptying room for familiar tools, the rush begins to show with dropped connections; the sense of distress continually having to ebb again. Outside its room it's perfect. The only place I can find me is outside its room. The only place I'm worth anything is outside its room.

I'm everywhere outside its room.

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