el terremoto

Today is 6 years since the accident. It’s to the point that before it rains, my fingers stiffen and I have trouble bending them. I worry for the inevitable arthritis. Glad I don’t have the ability to drive here, always a scary day.

Chilean Cab. last night. Magic.

Tonight, we dance. In place of tomorrow’s Music class, we go tonight to a saxophone fest of sorts and dance.

I’m going crazy and nothing is organized enough to write. Instead all I have are streams of thoughts, wisps of dreams mixing with reality, with desire, yearning. A hunger for that which I am afraid to taste. I close my eyes and the conjectures both excite and frighten me. Open, it’s all the same, in that ocean within, it’s all the same. The need to touch is infinite. Deafening, strange and terrifying. Uncontrollable, I feel as if I’ll never need air again. I bite my lip and try and push the thoughts away. Persistent, they return. Deep breath in, catches in my throat, hands tremble and I could die. And yet, I’ve never felt so alive. Pulse quickens, and I try to make it stop, knowing that I don’t want it to. The power of this passion, sorcery. But all I can do is wait.

I can’t write today. Maybe tomorrow.