Saturday, January 28, 2006

Just another day

Today was, in part, a bit of every day. An eighth of Sunday last week, a fifth of the Saturday a week before that (the part about the park and twinkling lights).

As of 1/28/2006 7:35:22 PM PST I am...
31 years old (fast closing in on 32)
383 months old
1,667 weeks old
11,669 days old
280,078 hours old
16,804,715 minutes old
1,008,282,922 seconds old
I am the equivalent of a dog that is 4.56712328767123 years old.

Today was also very similar to day #9,842 if I remember correctly, the part about the Art Museum, minus the ennui and vertigo of close-up art exposure and plus one persistent glass-toucher/sculpture-almostknockerover. But those are minor details.

Today was violently unlike Fri/Sat/Sun of week #940 during which I cried a lot and was not once out of doors, but that was a good weekend for me in the long run. I learned some things about having grace and dignity where there are neither in abundance.

Today was not like yesterday... well, it was if you minus the sleeping in, and subtract the six hours of class during which certain classmates annoyed me greatly by living without compassion, nor with the skills for to think critically... and also take away the monthly meeting, pizzafeed, rainy rush-hour... minus all that and you have today.

...but add soulful heart lurching in chest, baleful skies full of all the compassion I cant find anywhere else for you and me and for everyone I don't even know.

And plus fantasies about walking in my skeleton. Less the layer of skin, which, in its entirety seems to weigh more and have greater mass then one would imagine, and this is not even counting the subcutaneous layer of fat.

Of course, skin as a whole, without a body of form is creepy and alarming so I took great pains to hide it behind a stick.

And then walked further into the park just stretched over with more then 600 muscles and pockets of pearly glistening fat. White fat in the pockets of my cheeks, on my tummy, thighs, even light streaks on my forearms and calves. Under that I kept walking till I shed all muscles, but the racks and hollows of my bones still cradled my organs. I stowed them on the wayside.

(I hope secretly I can put them back cause I always messed up with the stomach and liver and pancreas and all that weird stuff with the interactive model they have in the doctors office and its all backwards and upside down and shit)

After that there wasn't much left but bones so light for walking I fairly dreamed my way through the park, not even viscous enough to resist the flow of motion.

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