24.Jan.2004
the blush upon the snow
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i know the milky-way
This will be a very pure entry.
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I'm in a brilliant mood.
Soon, all engines shall be fueled for much-needed excursions to the Eastern United States. I'll more than likely post a positively ecstatic update to Diaryland when tickets for the smaller and larger cities are secured, and, I'm waiting anxiously.
I want this profoundly, with as much fury and as much force as I know I deserve this. This trip isn't so much about meeting others as it is about opening myself to another imagination-stirring realm and untwisting my artistic cells.
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I've been re-working one of my pieces so that it will segue effortlessly into my favorite sonata. It was a passionate discovery. It's been a while since my face has literally flushed and I've withheld breath during a session with my Wurlitzer. This process stretches itself to metaphysical heights that I'm unable to capture appropriately in words.
I've been twirling through the sun-streams on my wooden floors because of it, and, I'm in wonderful need of engaging colloquy with those scintillating creatures I've stubbornly wrestled into my universe.
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I've been productive and energetic as of late, inquisitive and cerebral, flustered with vocal reverence, and perspiring with muscle-carving solicitude. My dreams have been telling, though they twist eccentrically. My particles warm on the recollection alone.
I don't feel alone.
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So far, it's truly been my year, perhaps a premature evaluation flung whimsically toward a karmic direction, but I care not. I cleave to my fatalism and my present, heightened elation. I simper perpetually, all Christina Ricci dimples intact.
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In the midst of writing this entry, my doorbell rang. Two friends I hadn't seen in a year whisked me away to Guthrie, OK, where I met up with someone I hadn't seen in longer. What ensued was a night of nicotine bliss, musical orgasm, and the exuberant re-acquainting with past cronies.
I love it when these sporadic kidnappings transpire.
Goodnight, dears.
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time & machine