to rage, oh rage against the dying of the light we are all light, stardust to the core there's no on else to illuminate the situation
and we must do something before forced to reap what we have sown.
10.22.2005,10:53
passing notes
Remember when your most important ideas ended up on torn-off scaps of note paper because you just had to share them and there was no other way? I have piles, in old boxes, of those shreds of brilliant moments, in case I ever want to go for a walk through the past. But most of the time, I really don't. I'm not sure if here or now was ever what I was aiming for, but in retrospect, it seems to match up okay. Do we forever modify our memories of our childhood dreams of adulthood by growing up into them? Because I only have little snippets of what I used to dream the future could be, like those torn pieces of note paper. Dreams so innocent we didn't even know to cherish them.