Tuesday, December 09, 2003
Metaphors lived in the Space of an Hour
metaphors lived in the space of an hour, for things I can not write about here any other way:
I still have the habit of walking into the living room and putting things down where the couch used to be. Every time the object falls to the floor I say “oh… right.” And I wonder how long it will take me, not seeing it, not having it there, to stop acting like it is.
When I took off my brace last night I decided to check out my foot. I rubbed it gently, wiggled it a little. I started to flex it and was immediately stopped by the shock of pain I felt. The words that came were, “It really is that fucked up.” The way things moved inside felt all wrong and twisted. And I have to believe what I already know to be true; it will not be better for a while.
I start my new job January 5th. Very exciting!
Maria‘s hair is so cool and pretty.
No one is getting anything for Christmas from me, with the exception of a few people. doh! Form letters all around.
Me (4:01:45 PM): eek the ground just shook
Them (4:02:08 PM): yeah?
Me (4:02:18 PM): yeah everybody just prairie dogged
Me (4:02:23 PM): “did you feel that?”
Turns out we had ourselves a little 4.5
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