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04.13.2004 - 9:08 p.m.


There are so many days where I feel like I just…move through life without even scratching the surface of things. Girl in a bubble. It's Koyaanisqatsi, days just move past; it's morning, it's evening, it goes so fast, it goes and the bright flashes of life fade. All of it, the painful, the beautiful, the supposedly unforgettable. A backwards Polaroid.

In Thailand, I tilted my face to the sun, felt the bright red hotness behind my eyes, and tried to hold things. Stay that exact moment, the exotic locale, the feeling of freedom, the lyrical laughter of soccer-playing children. Remember this, remember this. Please, remember this.

And I do. But. Only a matter of days and it's a memory, it's data, it's not sensory, and even if it is, it's less. Less.

I am frightened by one thing over all else. The passage of time, how deceitful and toying it is. How an hour can feel like a day, but when the moment is gone…it's a blink. It's a gunshot. It's fucking MTV editing, and a year can be that. Five years. Ten. More. It goes so, so fast.

It feels like sliding down a chute. You have no choice, you fall eventually.

Here's what I think, though. I think that you can slow things. I think you can make everything be deeper, richer, and slow down. Just put out your arms. Grab on to everything you can. Risk it, over and over again. Give a shit about what's going on around you. Be immersed with the world, be a fucking sponge, take every bit of yourself and put it everywhere you can.

What I do, I think, is I tuck my arms. Fold them over myself. Close my eyes. Slide as fast as I can. And it goes by.

My failing. My falling.


Once JB and I hiked in the desert up a steep hill covered in loose scree in order to poke through an abandoned mine. As we climbed, another hiker emerged from the mine's entrance and started coming down. I stopped to watch him, because it was amazing - he came tearing down in great leaps, just one giant step after another, rocks tumbling along in drifts. He was down, hundreds of feet, in maybe thirty seconds.

Later, when JB and I came down, JB went ahead of me. He employed the same technique, large strides accompanied by sliding rushes of stones.

I have been ashamed of myself many times in my life, but that day sticks out painfully; my timid, frightened steps, my achingly slow descent, the minutes ticking by and the sweat rolling down my face, the inch I would manage to force myself to travel before stopping. JB finally losing his temper, me screaming that he wasn't helping dammit. Such a chickenshit thing, when the very worst that could have happened to me was a skinned knee.

My fear of falling. My failing.


Tonight, the president did a live press conference. And I didn't watch. Because what I think doesn't matter. Because I would rather be ignorant than unhappy.

Because my arms are tucked.

There's less risk that way, you see.

My falling.

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23 comments so far.

I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

yay, diaryland