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Location: Midwest, United States

"Power lines, my travlin' partner on this ride. Dripping, pulling - up and down, in this sing song, their lullaby blends with the swaying train. I curl myself into this journey; folding myself up into this pocket of time. Old familiars greet me - that swing set in the back yard, the ruins of an old church covered in new birth and old - mixed with unremembered newness." Journal Entry, October 13, 2005~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~All words are copyrighted by GoGo on a Page/gogoroku.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

Tapping the Wire

So many thoughts come and go. I am lazy to write them down; comfortable in letting them pass along, like time does tick by ticking hand. I am a thousand miles away from the written word.

My days are filled with countless stories…I find they can only fit into verbal retelling. I think that is it, I have become vocal in my days again, leaving the written word for something other than an expression of me. I do miss my connection here. I miss painting with words. I can almost feel the rhythmic swaying between mind and fingers. Though I hear a story coming, it is quick to leave just out of reach before I can grab it.

I’m currently working an over night shift. I actually work days now, but I pick up shifts anytime I can get them. Unfortunately for me, the overnights are the only extra shifts opening up. I have become comfortable with waking in dawn’s early light rather than going to bed in it. I long to be in bed.

I went outside to get a sense of fresh air to wake me. I do appreciate the intoxicating liquor of the night air. The earth breathes at night, releasing this thick perfume, the temperate air feels grounding. After having many long hot days, the nights have become a warm expression. No coat needed; nothing to brace against the air, I could wear shorts out at 4am. My mind wandered to sleeping with all the windows open, letting the earthy air wrap around me like a cocoon while I sleep. I believe I am done working at night, all night, until morning comes.

The bright side to nocturnal employment is tomorrow while I sleep, I will be unconscious through the sweltering heat of the day. By noon, the body is layered with perspiration, too long outside and it becomes a river of sweat pouring off the body. The days are all a dehydrating experience; heat rising from every orifice this town has to offer. The pavement a sticky skin, sun burnt and peeling, reeling in the humidity rising. I will be unconscious through tomorrow’s hot day. That’s my consolation.

Hmm. Is this really what I came to write on this page? Another ramble on weather…another diatribe on working all night?

I guess I am just tapping this wire, seeing what I can get. Its just another rambled prose on an overnight shift.

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Blogger twitches said...

The words come and go. I can relate to your post - last summer I wrote like a madwoman, but this time around I just want to read novels and watch movies. No sense in trying to force it, I guess, but I don't want to abandon writing entirely. Still trying to find the balance...

1:43 PM, June 03, 2007  

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