2002-04-10 - 3:28 p.m.

the ways of the world are not mine. mine are not the ways of this world. they do not correlate. a glance askance, the neck twisted. a tie choking outside and belly-up. present no longer is the decorative element.

the body makes new signs. my forearms raised above me at forty-five degree angles. i would be tempted to clap, that is customary. i am bringing my hands together but they intentionally miss. why? i say that i fear the opprobrium reserved for individuals, but i stay back, still. i will not lean forward. i am not well enough to surrender myself. if i tried to so i would be found out. i do not know myself. what does the surrender of self import?

i am too disarming, and too general. quite a suckling. i am a child. i exist to feed.

rise up from this torpor! why do you not? i aim for heights lofty and settle for nervous laughter. my eyes know better than to remain downcast, but if not positioned so they are home to a meander.

people are no longer people. they are representations of ideas and theories. mine is an unsuccessful construct. 'I beseech you to be not incomplete'. She is attachment, she is carnal largesse, she is awake. i am none of these things. i am for promenades: walk, stop, discuss. Finally 'come hither'.

What of all this is out of place?

troilus

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