heads of damage

i see them sitting at a table and i freak out. completely. i don't know why, i just give an involuntary wave and turn around and walk away. sit at another table. get my books out. breakout into a little sweat. finally, (deep breathing exercises Q, deep breathing exercises) calm down enough to walk back over, don't offer an excuse, just sit down. one is braver than the others,
____- where have you been? __all semester i mean, what's up with you?
[i don't really have a good answer to this]
____- i _don't _know.
[they're not convinced]
____- seriously, i don't know what's up with you, but you need to sort it out ok? you wanna fail outta law school?
____- he won't fail [that's someone else piping in]
____- fine, not fail. but you wanna do badly?
____- no.
[too many eyes. the sun is shining too bright in this corner. i hate this corner. i hate this ____]


*___*___*

there's been an unprecedented incoherence in the structure of spacetime. i mean it. a complete disorder. i cannot understand structure. it's been a haze. weeks of it. if i know where i am, i don't know when. if i can tell the time, i'm probably late somewhere. i don't even know what i'm doing. (where have you been all semester?, seriously... what have you been doing?) ok. okokok, i admit it: it's a mess. a real mess. i haven't had it this bad in a long time.


*___*___*

objects manage to mark out their volume pretty effectively. i'm impressed with their ability to do that. stationary shadows are the hallmark of a strong sense of self. yesyes.


*___*___*

this chair hasn't been behind this table for over a year. it's a terrible combination. like you and i. great in theory, but never works in practise. for one thing, i have to lower the chair too far down to fit under the table. for another, it reminds me of the past. of 2007. it's unacceptable. anything that reminds me of the past ought to be lost.


*___*___*

you know one day i'm actually going to think up something worth writing about. not the half-formed half-unlived lives(life) of confused mispersonalities who struggle just to decipher morning, and concentrate soo hard on just the next step (pick a shirt. find car keys. pick up bag. decide between large or medium coffee). screw people like that. ("everyone's like that!, Q, we're all like that, you're a little more extreme, but it's the same for everyone". eff that, no they're not. she gives me a worried glance.)

honestly though. it's going to come to me. a way to write about stuff people care about. like... romance or something. inspirational quotes. whatever. i'll use small words. it's called 'commonality'. when people communicate they respond strongly to commonalities in one another. mirroring body language. matching speech tones and patterns (as well as slang/vernacular is a great start). similar tastes, ideas- obviously. don't use words like transubstantiate. it breeds difference. people feel awkward if you say temerity instead of audacity. sometimes people try and challenge me to the synonym game. it's not a good idea.

talkative. loquacious. garrulous. prattler.

sycophant. toady. obsequious. servile. flatterer.

sooner or later. i'll stitch up all these images into a tasteless motley of chapters and blow-up this whole writing thing once and for all.


*___*___*

i'm not caring about very much right now.
i don't know why.
it's not good.