16.Apr.2001

failed

--

.

The side of my face is burning, and I find myself encapsulated in my own menial fantasies, then brought against the violent mouth-stream of reality. The last couple of hours have deemed me useless, and I am incapable of accepting this.

I would like to blame the impending stress on tax day, but it's really much more ... something.

I cannot make the world's problems go away with a blue-dawn fantasy involving sleep and debauchery and wine.

I somehow feel as though I have failed.

--

time & machine