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7:48 p.m. - March 24, 2003
Some thoughts passing my way
A long, mentally exhausting day in San Francisco, translating from French into ASL and ASL into French, with two added bonuses: Charging trilingual rates and working with the québécoise Lissa, stunning as always.

It felt good to focus though there was a challenge; one of the people involved peripherally was a dead ringer for Spec, right down to the eyes. I mean dead ringer and my heart pounded; I looked at him too often, stealing glimpses, trying to tell myself I was simply cataloguing similarities.

Simply.

I am not feeling sad, sorry, fatalistic, hopeless; I don't know where to look, where to walk, how to breathe.

When will I ever make sense?

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Cocooning - er, I meant to say relaxing - listening to music, burning CDs. Classical, lachrymalia, maybe an acoustic catch-all.

I put far too much thought into CDs.

On the train ride home I thought about REM's "Nightswimming" and the line about two moons and began putting together a poem; I wrote it down when I sat in my car. It irritates me that when I cannot articulate lucidly the urge goes on a rampage and it's poetry that issues like an aneurysm, quick and fleeting, sometimes with lasting results, sometimes not.

I want to have a better grasp on things.

 

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