it is an easier thing to mark tangible geography than to try to identify the territory you have traversed metaphysically, intellectually.

sometimes it helps to have notes. or have a system of notes. (thank you, memento).

the accomplishments i traditionally revere are those i arrived at from some semi-conscious, unnavigable place. i always chose to live in the ether that my curricula created. school and books and theory, though my reality, were not reality. until lately, when i think reality has perhaps become material to me.

once, a dear, dear onetime confidant said to me:

"i had grand plans! I was to draw out many books, spread them across my desk and quote from them madly, wildly, almost all the while keeping tabs on my activities with the help of a terminal window directed at {you}. This plan, however, was plagued by many problems..."

and when i read that passage this evening, which was written to me nearly a year and a half ago, i began trying, quite in vain, to assess whether or not my brain had finally reconciled my urge to theorize with my new-ish urge to live in the real and tangible world.

i decided that sex was very tangible and love the same. and the way my hair feels right out of the shower, and the way my mouth feels after eating a popsicle, and the way i look at you seems not-so-ethereal-more-real-y, and the tiny bird cactus, and the fire, and the air running over my bare body, underneath the fan.

and i decided to have a good weekend.

you too.