||[Nov. 7th, 2006|12:50 am]
|||||Fischerspooner - Never WIn||]|
the question of the day is:
is the act of forgetting a moral judgment of sorts?
The rest of the day is filled up with oppressive rain. I love the rain, but this isn't Oregon rain. Someone told me it was a leftover monsoon from across the Pacific. I believe it...it is so warm.
Yesterday, Norah and I went to Bagby and soaked in the rain in the forest. I love it there. When I come back, I can always feel the electricity of the lights.
It seems like there should be far more to say. I want to write a poem. I started to write one earlier. I called it Small Town Murders, because I can't stop thinking tonight about all the people who died. Like Lacey. I don't know if it's macabre autumn thoughts, or just how I spread my traumas out across decades and never really freak out. I don't remember being so angry about it then. It just seemed like part of life, which I suppose it is. I can't imagine how different you'd have to think and feel from the way I do to strangle a twelve year old girl under a bridge.
Life is really good. I feel lucky a lot.