April 23, 2010

it continues to weird me out that I can string sentences together with a minimum of fuss while I'm walking around, but park me in front of a desk, fingers hovering over home keys, and I am suddenly rudderless, requiring nothing short of miracles to get things out. Is it the notion of moving words through fingers, transforming one set of electrical impulses from inside my head to another set broadcast freely into a cloud of data, with the exchange point being mediated by pure physicality or something else entirely?

stranger, though: this was the first Thursday morning in which I've woken up in my own bed since the end of December.


April 03, 2010

You live again
in the shuddering light
of these images
this valediction:
you are running from a rising tide

I have 10000 images to process, but there are words.