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Michael
Hutchence
Water in my cereal...
9-17
- It's like a
paralysis has taken me. Like something has a hold of my
mind and won't let go. It's as if a beloved family pet is
snarling and snapping at me when I reach close to nuzzle
it's ear.
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- It's
like a good friend that I maybe didn't call
enough had suddenly disappeared.
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I
haven't been able to write in a
month.
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- Have I wanted
to?
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- Sometimes, yes.
But sometimes, no.
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- On and off all
through the day yesterday I sat at the computer, trying
to get back on the horse. All day yesterday, trying to
bring the voice inside me to the surface. All day
yesterday, trying to identify how I feel, trying to
explain what has made me so hesitant and silent lately.
Words came through, but meanings didn't
follow.
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- I'm
frightened.
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- I've been known to
close down before, it happens now and again. But so many
things feel different this time. So many things feel
uneasy. So many skies are gray. This time it's not a
question of time, not a question of effort versus desire.
It's not a question of switching to a blogger, or only
deciding to write little things, or post funny links
instead of digging deep inside myself. This time it's not
a question of priority.
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- Right
now, there are no pictures in my
head.
- There
are no songs on my fingers.
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- So many things
that I've wanted to say, so many things that have found
that place in my mind that founders discussion,
creativity, and exuberance....
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- But the words
won't come.
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- And I'm
frightened.
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- It feels like I'm
in a middleground. I'm full of things to think about and
say, but I can't get anything onto the page, like my
writing is coming out in a different language and I don't
know how to correctly conjugate all the verbs. I can't
find the room/time/mood within myself to make music, and
it seems like I'm getting pulled in a lot of different
directions at once.
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- But the screwed up
thing is that basically, things aren't really that bad..
it's just that so much could be, I don't know..
better.
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- It's one of those
points in the curve where you get hung up and hung out on
the tiny things that you tell everyone else not to sweat.
Lots of advice from all corners, but even with lots of
that advice being sage and useful, I don't feel any
different.
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- I'm surrounded by
friends that are far away. I need more contacts here in
town, more escapes and confidants, but you know...
sometimes I just don't want to.
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- All these myriad
events, all these things that in the light of recent
unbelievable tragedy seem so inconsequential, so
unimportant.. yet so vital to how my world
turns.
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- I'm involved in
rescue efforts of my own. It doesn't mean that my heart
isn't with the souls in New York or Washington, it just
means that I have rubble of my own to dig through as
well...
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- I'm tired of
advice that chases its own tail. I'm tired of feelings
that have been forced to live in a cage. I'm tired of
relationships redefining themselves simply because time
passes. I'm tired of these horrible voices in my head
that are trying to provide me with simple, brutal
solutions instead of deeper understanding.
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- Bombing
won't solve the problem. It just wont.
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- Don't think I
don't feel that taste on my tongue, don't assume that I
don't yearn for the sound of explosions returning the
pain delivered scream by scream, don't suppose that I
cannot feel the rage.
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- I don't trust
those feelings. I don't like the shadows they cast, the
darknesses that I can't see through.
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- I won't swing my
sword if I can't be sure of who might in it's path.
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- That's not
how I do things.
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- But having said
that, a question begins to form in my mind...
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- could
that be the
problem?
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