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December 11, 2000
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| hanging | |
| I forgot myself. I don't know how long it's been. More than a year, for sure. I forgot what I'm like. I forgot where I go. I forgot what I do. I forgot what I dream. ... all these kaleidoscopic distractions ... I forgot that the loneliness doesn't bother me. I forgot to go to the City. I haven't been to the City since a year ago October. Oh yes, I went in the summer, but I wasn't alone. I forgot to wander. I forgot to hold wonder inside, like I was holding a cup steaming inside my chest. I forgot to be transparent. I forgot to be precious as a puff of smoke. I forgot to be innocent, moon of milk reminded me to be innocent. I forgot I'm not a creature of the basement or the cubicle or the cupboard. I forgot to stay warm. I forgot to be warm to my own mind. I forgot to practice detachment from deprivation. I forgot to stop squinting and go blind.
I didn't think it would take me so long to adapt, to the winter, to this website. It's taken me a long time to notice the void around me, the abyss, the plains, the silence. Why should I be afraid of the void, the Dada void? It's just that I'm afraid of nothing. Welcome nothing again, says moon of milk. |