...actually, more like 3:32am, not a sound from the apartment...
in my quest for fast wifi/internet/whatever the official term is connection, i find myself sitting at the end of the hallway of the 4th floor of our building, hoping that gmail will save the day and send my heavy(gats) attachments.
i'm having a white night--but not my usual existential crisis, just the running-on-coffee-i-gotta-get-this-done garden variety. this is the kind of moment when i feel like i'm me but i'm not me. these are my hands typing, i can see them, i can hear my nails hitting the keyboard, but it's like i'm standing outside of me.
a college friend had a poem entitled dis.loc.ation (or something like that). i feel that word right now.
hitting the beach in 2 days, a beach i haven't seen in 3 or 4 years. it's for work, but one jonah's shake and i'm a happy camper.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment