^ (n a v i g a t e) ^
11:05 p.m., 2001-09-25
i stare and i stare and i know the response. you don't realize what i notice. you don't know that the 'you' i speak of is the collective you i wish to inform of the plight of the commoner who raises you to such a pedestal as much as the you who is you. for some of you it happens so much you become isolated but complacent. untouchable. the color of the pen with which you write, the gentle bouncing of your foot betraying some turmoil, large or small, held in check below the surface... the falling, cascading web of your hair around your shoulders or neck. the fault is in the idealization. there is a sense of awe or mystery in that 'thing' that keeps me riveted. rapt attention at the mere swivel of your head. the movement of your eyelashes when it's all i can see of your face from such an angle. you blink so slowly. you keep your hand warm by pressing it between your knees. if my concentration on your pattern of breathing can be thwarted, maybe some part of today can be salvaged. the way you hold that pen, delicate fingers, sinewy hands. the microexpressions on your face which tell me that something, somewhere is happening. my one regret, at that short moment, is that it is not happening to me- that writing is not for me, as the idealization continues. for days on end i feel trapped in my own mind.
