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Tag Archives: cryptic

Malaise only possible after good night leading into empty Sunday which is spent only leading into that Monday . That Monday that means I’ve blown a four day weekend. Four days gone by with nothing to show for it but a haircut and a general feeling as if there’s something missing.

Drowsy.

More than drowsy. Can I be any more cryptic?

Here’s the spot: such a night last night, such a nothing day today, filled with ancient knowledge of gotta go back to school tomorrow. And that’s nothing new, except to me.

With a gray watch cap pulled tight over my head, trying desperately to remake my image somehow. Stumbled to the living room to just shut Walter Jacobson up (as if that’s possible) and back to the dining room thinking, “I just got something.” Like a present, a surprise. And when I realized what it was — who could really say? — not even a shred of guilt.

All brought on by the jangly guitar and lyrics of Bob Mould, Husker Du —

“Do you remember?”

— “I wanna go back but I’m halfway to the place where will meet and I’m half dead on my feet.” —

and I try to force an answer to the people who have been asking me that question again and again — “So, have you been writing?” — and I realize, the answer, no matter how hard I try to hedge it, is “No.” —

“You left me standing in the rain.” —

Ah well.

Don’t even bother to look at Dante’s site because it’ll just kill you.