no reason to be, but there it is...the feeling that everything will find its place and settle. whether it be back to the pits of hell or nestled in between the good notes of a radiohead tune.

what is the point in being right or wrong? it's if you move forward or backward that's telling you something.

weeding out and detaching from the seriously screwed up is delicate work. your fingers are careful to make sure they peel off whole and not leave any sick residue behind. you make two piles, one for yes, the other for null and place long carried attachments in the appropriate pile. don't wince, don't rethink, don't stop your hands from lifting the garbage can lid. say bye-bye.

nothing is spared.
noone is spared.
photos, teddy-bears, dead flowers, and ball point pens...
letters, poems, lab coats, and histology notes. wine glasses and too long saved corks, donald duck spoons and shamrock charms.

you realize that the meaning these things had, came only from you all along and noone else.

memories are just where you laid them
fuel