4:10 p.m. - 2003-07-01
spaceman
a game of small ball soccer in the living room, passing the ball to the walls and taking the return with a hard volley into that corner which is a goal post guarded by little-worn shoes and a matted rug, as old as me, since i remember being little and looking at the marvel of the rug, thick coloured red yellow orange bounded cloths strung and intercrossed together to form an ecliptical shape, standing on it i feel like im on an island admist the sea of grey marble.
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is it true like that jung said
about our myths and dreams and imaginations
that we as humans have a common strand of thought running through our
different versions of the same heroes, villians, adventures, tragedies, leanings, desires, revelations...
if that is true may i take the easy way out...
i find the search tiring
i need to relax
by myself,
i need more privacy than a book full of the thoughts of somebody else
who has never stepped into my skin...
but still, now that im done with picking my brain
i realise that sometimes
it is better for me to step out of my skin and enter into another's body
and the only way to do that to full effect is to read.
unfortunately i am a picky reader,
or i can't stand certain books of fiction quitting them less than halfway.
a good dose of detective stories and giant russian epics and avant garde mini cut-up words pasted together will cure you.
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