grace (co)jones via dd mag
The Order of Spirals
I can still sense an illusion.
I can still bear witness to the observation that
We are spiraling out of control and into the impending event horizon.
We are forming a decompositional matrix around our failing perceptions,
Spaghettifying this surrounding spectacle of
Ours. For what reason must we choose
To abandon it,
i had dinner at a peruvian restaurant last night. it was strange at best. i walked in expecting to meet a friend at 5:45, but no one was there waiting. instead there was a man whom i had worked at a restaurant with in 2004. he was friendly and the conversation flowed. it turned out that he was very good friends with some other guys i had worked with in 1999 at another restaurant. and then in walked the ex-husband of a woman i worked with in 1998 and 1999. they are all doing the same things but in different places- contrasted to my life which has completely shifted. it was trippy. it took me back. and the food was good.
i am still not the master of my emotions in some regard. i resigned from a few volunteer postions. i had been feeling drained and stretched and tugged in too many directions. and in this environment of too much, i began to get the sense that something was not quite right. i was very entrenched in getting my tasks done and i pushed past my insight and kept moving. and then i found myself feeling like my time was futile. i struggle still with letting go of regret here. as much as i would like to say- i’m not angry- the truth is really that i am miffed. not uncontrollably thank goodness, but miffed none-the-less.
i am changing my role at my workplace. as i make this transition, i find myself characteristically honing in on areas that could use some change. i am already going to be taking on a much larger workload and yet i am looking for more extra curricular responsibility.
Strange, I’ve seen that face before,
Seen him hanging ’round my door,
Like a hawk stealing for the prey,
Like the night waiting for the day,
Strange, he shadows me back home,
Footsteps echo on the stones,
Rainy nights, on Hausmann Boulevard,
Parisian music, drifting from the bars,