Thursday, August 22, 2002

Another day. You know, it all existed before this was up, but somehow reality fades when unpublished, tomorrow, today, yesterday, last week, last year. Sometimes it feels like you're writing a book and tearing out pages as you go.
It's 5:42AM and work is looming before me, shaking its tentacled head and winking a malevolent eye -- come on, you've got to dramatize. That's the only thing that's given this race hope throughout history.

Or is it just a response to something that we all know, subconsciously, is going on, something that is really more dramatic than we can imagine?

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