brennschluss is when I've been giving it all and I have half an hour to an hour until I'm done with this paper and the end of all of college. rockets stop firing, the moment just after maximum propulsion. the analogy doesn't make sense but it does. ideas moving through my head like sifting for marbles in sand. sisyphus is to physics as activism is to models of production? what? no no there's truth in there and an elegant statement waiting to come out. how do I grasp this.
what is the reason that all of my analogies involving paper-writing concern tactile interactions, sensations of touch? sift through things. formations coherent glass cold fuckin marbles to the touch hard solid sounds in between a clink and a thunk when tapped on tables. I'm trying to find this marble tap it on table crisp clink arrange it in rows. crisp crisp crisp crisp crisp
beautiful outside with bird chirps
this is like a perfect epitome; hey know this you, me in the future, coffee from pinnacle and bummed cigarettes and papers punctuated with trips to the bathroom and navigatings outside looking at other strangers in mute gazes people with red-dotted glows sliding from mouths to hip to mouth to hip, the smell of toner, uncomfortable congratulations of a beyayutiful sunrise and the ecstatic feeling of having said something worthwhile.