How Do You Tell Your Good Days From Your Bad Days

Two new poems posted on The Euphemist, one of which might be very good. And I've still got a mild case of cold feet for a mohawk. The maids make my bed every day and the room smells good and not like me. Found peanut butter, but it needs a slight honey modification. I feel as though I've lost the capacity, or just the will, to express myself in coherent narratives. Have become fond of (or trapped by) ambient, enigmatic expression, as though my words are the expositional section of the fugue of my consciousness, sounding out the subject and it's false answers. I demand a synthesis from the dialectic between the comforting solipsistic thesis that the richness of life is more important than that speculative inference which leaves no room for living, that steps make the path and living is the frontier of life, and the paralysing historico-objective ideal antithesis. Synthesis or dissolution. Many people and flying daylight. A German photographer took some portrait shots of me; it was uncomfortable to think myself the object of our attention, the disjunct between me as a face and me as a me, and don't get me wrong, and attention, and management. My god, always the same face, hair, body--I'm surprised people don't get bored out of their minds looking at each other. Uncomfortable until I realized myself art object and collaborating artist. Playing a few games of chess a day and finding this same fugue-like interface with the world keeps me from caring too terribly much about much other than constants imminent and eminent. Respectfulness and deference) are oftentimes avoidances of interaction. People are different on vacation, I think. I'm getting more sensitive to enjoying people, so that when they leave it is as if I'd attached a little piece of my heart to them, feeling the pinch of pain and regenerating tissue. Phil, Mehdi, Marie, Hussein, Chase, Norbert, Megan and others.

A non-feeling like white cow in a snowstorm occasionally; of sentiment a wall discovering, others.