2002-12-19 @ 2:48 a.m.

its almost 3am. i cant sleep.

its a whirlwind in my head.

its a war in there.

[you bring your words. but youre just like them. youre unprepared. because you dont know the terrain.]

i want to go to the beach. and feel the salt. and the wind. and write in the sand with a stick. even though most of the sand is frozen. and run. on the frozen sand. and feel the salt. and the wind.

and try to capture something with my camera. try to capture. some kind of feeling.

i want to watch the sun rise. from the balcony. of that hotel in ogunquit.

but itll all have to wait.

because life is different. and my mother is sick. and its seven degrees outside. and the plows are plowing by my window. shaking the house. and waking my cat. as they rumble by.

and the hotel is closed for the season.

and no one in their right mind. wants to go to the beach. on nights like this.