with trumpets also
03.28.04 | 00:53
I remember thinking beautiful thoughts on my back on her couch, thoughts delicate like you think a spiderweb will evaporate when the morning sunlight hits it. Calm stream of conciousness. I thought about my father, and about myths. Shiva, the Judeo-Christian's God. Pater. Government, and Machiavelli, Locke and Hobbes and Rousseau, and my fading idealism. I'm growing in a dying empire. Egypt, Athens, Rome, are all falling around us and no one notices because it's so slow and so quiet. Our system of government is failing and it has something to do with the level of public debate in this country, the cynicism, the corruption, the low attention span. We can't fix it. People don't change.
Beautiful thoughts like a needle of some slow drug full of colors. Thoughts that pillow you in a crystalline silence. I wanted to hang on to that. I didn't want to find the spot, the angle, where you tap it and it all comes down crashing. I liked who I was when I was thinking these things.