[Go on, then, I'll write you. But you better damn well be grateful in whatever blank virtual manner you can muster.]

It is hard to know what to say.

Except that. There is a lot of text confined to pages of various discriptions for which I have the languidly enduring desire to commit to this page, right here. To air. To present. To make pretty on a (lilac) screen.

And there's so much. a lot. a lot a lot. But.

I am only now reaching the end of what I can only describe as one piece of a pattern. It's the spiralling confusion my heart chooses to presume following that happy period of relative stability, where the imminent problems weren't apparent, and the crossing calm.

Come down. A few days worth of hours in which I fight to keep up with the lightening speeds and directions of my mind as everything before falls not into place, but at least makes a good job of yelling "Look at me! I'm not in place, and you're gonna have to do better than that to goddamn get me one!"

The thing is (if you're still with me), I sometimes wonder if the things that did become a problem in this minor sea-change

had to become problematic. at all.

It's for this reason that I decided today to give myself a break. Amid the ongoing romantic attachment to that wistful feeling (and other stories) and it's capacity for the creation of a little slice of aesthetic. i think. i oughta. lay off.

If things were straightforward, there'd be nothing to write about. However, I'm gonna just try sticking to the unstraightforward I carry around anyway (and which already makes for better posts than this one)

- and stop picking up extras.