I invented a dance it is called the velociraptor.

Don't be a ghost... leave a note, comment or hug below... thanks! AND IF you think you're too important to leave a comment or hug or what have you, you should know you aren't... so Ghost traffic go away. If you don't like what you see either A) close your eyes and pray it disappears or B) get over it. If you don't have anything nice or at least constructive to say please leave my diary now. The nice and/or constructive comment/sentiment/etc doesn't necessarily have to be about me or this crap of a journal... so whatever...be nice. OH and "fall" will lead you to older entries...

2003-09-04 - 11:17 p.m.

IGBY

With a plastic triangle, it�s edges rounded thin, I pick out metal strings.

They�re poorly strung along the neck and body of a nearly five decade old Gibson acoustic guitar.

My hand was strumming them hard.

Hands made of lead.

In this instance the weight of urgency shifts from my hands to my feet; like an accident in rush hour traffic.

I was just a witness, merely passing by, heard it all occurring, the twist of metal.

The pressure of lead breaks a finite copper line, yellow worn thin and uneven like those on country roads.

I was one of the many who pushed the weight of tension too far on the old dead wood, carving my name in it.

It was one of a million things I�d break with the same weight which curves my spine to fit the body of my guitar.

Twists wound these spindles piled up over time.

Twists under the weight of being placed beneath my acoustic in its case.

I�d rather bear it than place it in this shopping cart with one wobbling wheel, if I can�t push it.

I wish I could turn the humidifier up.

It�s getting cold, fear resonates in me like a sour note.

I�m going to crack, I won�t be the same.

I�m four decades old but I can�t reach it.

.trip. - .fall. - .bounce. - .ashes ashes . - .we all. - .fall down.

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So I noticed a shit load of people tracking internet dirt through my journal but not leaving me any comments or notes...so hey if your gonna click/sneeze and wipe your dirty internet germs all over my lapel the least you could do is leave me friggin note or comment... I don't like ghost traffic. Its not polite. And for those of you who leave me a comment, note, and/or guestbook entry thank you in advance! Don't have time you say? Well, then you could just give me a hug (see above). That only takes a second. Thanks!

............................................................................................I trail off in one sentence out of five

..........................................................................and the rest of the time I just.....

.......................................................................................................................mumble...............................................

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moon phases