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February 4, 2009

It doesn’t move very far, this writing blockage. If synapses had their own brand of Drain-O, and I could just flush them out every once in a while. Maybe get a massage at the same time, while all of the balls of hair and tangled words and dried flower petals and bits of stardust came flooding out of my nose splattering all over the floor and maybe onto the shoes of my masseuse who will thank the heavens that she wore shoes that day and that at least there are flower petals in there and maybe she’ll hope that a “FEA” and a “HOM” won’t stick and trail behind her when she walks. Or maybe a “ME” and a “YOU” will stick to the heels of her shoes and they’ll sound with every step she makes until they wash off in the rain and by then she’ll start to miss the chatter and handwrite them back there with a sharpie just so that she can walk in rhythm again (by this point ME and YOU will have disintegrated and gone down the drain back into the sea of individual letters where they can rearrange themselves into an YUE and an OM and come back out of my fingers onto a keyboard. Providing that they don’t get stuck in a synapse with the rest of the broken letters).

Of course, the Synapse Drain-O couldn’t have any weird chemicals in it or it would burn out my olfactory glands and I really like being able to smell things.


One Comment leave one →
  1. February 8, 2009 11:31

    great writing sis…keep it coming. it all makes great pictures in my head

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