I am a god, and I have sinned. The angels will know something has changed. The heavens will never be the same again. A new era. The winds will turn the strength of mountains into sanddunes. With a single word, I could reveal my hand, and everything would change. With two words, this never would've been. To rob the present, to rob the past. Heavens help me, infinite power has corrupted me.
Except, it is only miscomfort, no actual guilt. What happens when you get so good at putting together puzzles that you get a relevation that noone wants you to get? For the curious, no, I am not talking about becoming religious -- determining that to be bs is such an easy step that I made it ages ago.
I should've left the house today. I should've eaten something today. But I mostly slept. I actually emailed Lori regarding getting ppl together for RHPS this weekend, but she must've missed it. I missed going to an anti-war protest with Jason today because we were out late last night at Outland, a goth(ish) dance club. It's a taste of Insomnia, the last drips. I was too sleepy to fully wake in time.
I think I have taken my self-awareness and insight to new levels. Heightened sensitivity to the pain of self and others, combined with love of meaning and knowledge. During one of my brief conversations with Quealy (I think I tend to irritate him or something, so I'm leaving him alone on ICQ for a bit), he mentioned that it could be painful to be too self-aware. This is true, but it is a pain I will probably always be burdened by. I have come this far in search of truth, and feel that there might be something ahead. Like Zarathustra, I have loose companions with checkered pasts. Can they be on a journey with me if they don't even know it?
Hmm. I really want to find a DVD edition of the old conspiracy movie "Wild Palms" -- I've been having dreams.
I love Wally's devotion. I often wish for more, or for a different past, but I don't see love in my future. At least, it's unlikely. People I'm attracted to are people I usually am too shy to talk to, and even if I could, the mind I need is so rare, and perhaps like a diamond, so prone to imperfections. It is easier to make a perfect desk, but I cannot be happy with just a desk. It must be a diamond, and it must be the right color.