the ringing of tubular bells like an alarm clock: wake up wake up darling.

I am constantly forgetting to interact in a world larger than my own lately! i feel foreign in my own land. i don’t watch or read the news much anymore, and i question this. i question everything i read, learn, love.

questions questions questions!

here is an army of question marks adorned all down the page

?                      ?               ?

?             ?                                ?

?                                                                       ?                        ?

what i am asking is where do i fit here in this small small silly town?  i am really upset sometimes about this question, its very persistent you know.  but yesterday when driving through east liberty there is a chinese woman beating lint filters on the sidewalk outside of her laundromat.  i am stoned and the music is loud in the vehicle.  there is the sound of tubular bells, and the song is crying and her lint filter is hitting the sidewalk with the tinging of each bell and i feel harmonious and poetic and a part of this crazy small sad place that day.

the light changes to green and i move on to my next question.

why do i keep destroying then creating then creating then destroying?

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