yesterday i would have written about that runaway train feeling that has come back.
chris diagnosed me as burnt-out & d�rang�e but i don't know maybe there's more than just the accuracy of
that.
the diary entry i was writing in my head yesterday was beyond morose so i am glad i wasn't even motivated enough to get it down. put it up. what have you.
instead of writing : i put my red shoes on : walked to st francis : prayed for twenty minutes : mostly for the strength to let go : after mass the seder : giddy on charoset & bad probably-not-kosher wine
(on tuesday i went to the chrism mass at the cathedral, i was running late. from fourth street i could see all the priests standing between the rectory & the cathedral, all in white-with-gold-cross vestements, young leaves on the trees above them, lovely dankness of the air around. three skater-punk kids waiting for the light next to me on the sidewalk, debating amongst themselves, Should we walk in front of the church?)
yes i do think this is beyond d�rang�e. i can't hold a book in my brain for more than five pages.
What's this? This is an old toolshed.
No, this is a great past love.
::.Yehuda Amichai.::o Redemptor sume carmen
tenet concinentium
