this just in: ...a barefoot boy skateboarding around town, bus swapping and new roads/new terms...this still does not compare, mind you, to the strange and wonderful berkeley unicycle guy twist/turning his dance among the row of mailboxes on the corner of university and san pablo. i have seen him fall, horribly, i have - and he just gets right back up on his cycle and wheels/pirouettes away again - blood dripping from his shins. wow. i wonder what he listens to in those headphones...something inspiring, i bet...

i turn my back to the wind -
to catch my breath, before I start off again
...driven on without a moment to spend to pass an evening with a drink and a friend

i let my skin get too thin
i'd like to pause - no matter what I pretend
like some pilgrim Who learns to transcend
...learns to live as if each step was the end

- time stand still -
i'm not looking back...but I want to look around me now
- time stand still -
see more of the people and the places that surround me now

freeze this moment a little bit longer
...make each sensation a little bit stronger

experience slips away
...experience slips away

time stand still.

i am unsettled, boxes blocking my view, my path. me mum called last night in a fury, a flurry and flush - luckily i steered the conversation away from me being a bad daughter for not calling her and sharing the apartment hunting/finding/moving experience with her while i was sick, stressed, and mostly just wanting to crawl underneath the floorboards and dry up like last year's broccoli, snake or crumb - let alone needing to re-hash each day's disappointment over the phone to me mum...away from that, yes, and on to thepassionofthechrist, a fun topic to discuss with one's cathoholic/religious parent - heh - interspersed with comments about her dog eating his own shit, my father and his obsession about lead/carbon monoxide poisoning, and the squeeksqueek of boris's hedgehog chewtoy.

pleh.

back to pop - he believes he is slowly being poisoned; thusly the large gaps in memory and inability to form coherent thoughts. strangely enough, me mum lives in the same house and has had no effects from licking the walls, breathing in toxic fumes or alien death rays.
my dad, my pitiful dad who wears rubber-bands around the bottoms of his pants to keep the insects away from his legs (?), who cannot follow simple instructions written down in sequence, who has collected newspapers/magazines/flyer clippings for the last 60 years - he did start in high school, after all - and piles and piles them around the house... his favorite pile place is next to him in bed, taking up the space me mum no longer occupies (she has her own pile-free room) and which flutters down upon him while he sleeps, blanketing him like snow, his comfort.

*shakes head*

we all have to die someday - the older we get, the closer our parents are to death. it is terrible to watch them decompose while still alive...

in any case, i have not called them for a few weeks in my stressful state. *shrug*

breathe in - breathe out
breathe in - breathe out
repeat...