I Know Where The Reflective Surfaces Are

April 11, 2011 inspired by Oblique Strategies

In Seattle the clouds make it more quiet. The freeway makes it loud. Sometimes I find I am walking in a valley and I can’t hear anything, like I have ear muffs on. I want someone to pop a cist on my neck.

This is disgusting, but it will make me feel better.

Often I feel obtuse, then I suddenly shrink down into the opposing angle, laying down arms, character, grip and glee.

Transitions are fine, as long as I am the boss.

Appreciative of awkward glances in this other coast city so far North. You cannot pierce a cloud here. Darker clouds float over the white thick faced ones. A man excitedly discusses golf on his cell phone to my left.

I letchu go

I can’t ever decide on punctuation. Not sure if I am happy or sad or sarcastic or genuine. It’s because I used to look in the mirror too much. I was always writing the script of my face. Now I have to choose. To choose to let the dots and lines fall where they fall. Where do they fall? This is as big as

Who am I?

I know where the reflective surfaces are.

(I want to laugh more, but I need other people. Laughing has its own punctuation.)

I think if I had a choice, I would choose not to choose. This means that I really do like myself and I like others. “Doing it a different way” is not realistic. But I always have an idea about it. I wished I had an interesting thought just now.

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