relaxing isnt it when the day is past and you are spent all you had on surviving its trials and wonders and awakeness and the only thing to do this time of night is lazily turn an apathetic ear to the olympics or walk outside or sit down and write like me and all the other wonderful people who appreciate things like this. the air isnt heavy its just your head and lips weight more than all that but its nonsensical and unimportant all at once. i can really dig someone for a quarter hour and then am not shocked when things suddenly go awry or shut themselves down as if without warning the opposing party loses interest and walks away from across the connection but its not that because inside people really do care which is something that is becoming harder and harder to believe but still may be true. and theres nothing left to do but listen to several species and close the door because nothing else is important when there are voices speaking to you in languages you dont understand yet but you must learn because you might miss something later on. scary sounds or noises which are sounds but more specifically unmusical ones because musical sounds can be classified much clearer and more respectfully as music or notes or...

oh revelation! nous avons gagne.

and this unmusic is so awesome in such strange ways that i start to hear language in babble or is it just old english because i wouldnt have known before today and new information tends to do that to you. tends to creep up and bite you in the arse when you arent expecting to remember it and that is what is so wonderful about learning, about memory, its what i dig most about being awake, the realization that you are part of something, part of the world and are really understanding it more than you ever have before and are really into it and with it and digging it like you never have before. i wish sometimes i could know everything and not have to wonder or ask or be afraid of being so intimate with life anymore but the proposition is truly scary when you consider it objectively because to know everything would leave nothing to learn and no new revelations to dig and only old seeded ones because they are all that are when you know everything and thats never been what ive wanted for my life so i will stop wanting it at all.

there werent any clouds outside tonight so as i thought in the refridge about what to eat or drink that i could add coffee too it occurred to me that i should take a peek at the sky and so i walked (no, sauntered!) over to the door and nose-to-glass wonderfully gazed up at the heavens but saw nothing but lack of clouds so i stepped out the door and left it open because, with nothing but a dark kitch with flashes of color splashed up in hazy opaqueness against the plaid paper and glass of the back wall the reflections of the tele in the next room over, flying things wouldnt consider it such a wonderful proposition to fly in. and with the failing but seeping belief that the light wouldnt excite itself i moved breathlessly out to the center of the back deck and craned skyward to catch a glance of the gorgeousness that reminds me god is real. a torch appeared over the horizon behind the many anorexic black fingers of the plant growth of the creek and i watched (stared!) as it grew nearer and the roar of the jets reached my ears and the torch turned to two headlights and the jet took a soft soft soft bank over my house and behind the weatherstripping and out of view gone but not forgotten. and i can watch the sky for itself all over again the bright stars and the less glamorous but no less glorious dimmer starlets that all together make me believe that god indeed has freckles. and perhaps most significantly is that i saw not a single satellite and that if i did i am still not sure what i would have made of it, i could have praised god for giving me such a sign to change my ways and appease or maybe scorned it or burned it as some blasphemy to my beliefs or even just not cared at all and reveled or cried at that realization that it just doesnt matter like it used to, not like it used to.

but for now all is wonderful and the music is soft and the late news is hidden behind the transparent moody door glass and the mouths of the reporters utter no sounds to my tired ears and it is just tomorrow in her eyes, thats all.