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04.14.09: Oh Internet

Lately I crave the sensation of pushing down against a weighted key and the rhythm as my fingers move up, down, left and right choosing only select notes that, when struck, will create something greater than a electronic replication of hammers striking strings. My hands may be cold and shaking, but they can fill a room with sound, type these words that will be looked over by thousands of eyes and support my head when I lean over, exhausted. Really though, your hands could do the same, and in all likelihood they are much larger than mine.

Operation Redesign This Place has suffered for a long time due to my whims and other extenuating circumstances. I know. The site knows. You know. Raptor Jesus knows. Don't panic, we'll get through this. My ideas are transmitted through the Pony Express sometimes, you just need to be patient and hope the messenger doesn't get shot.

I've recently taken to reading [a very large city I often am in] Craigslist Missed Connections as something to do to avoid social interaction and awkward flirtation in between the rigmarole of student life. My hometown has a site as well, but no one uses it creatively. In [a very large city I often am in], you get posts containing veritable gems, such as "You weren't wearing any shoes at all and your toes, like those of a mythical bird of prey, were hooked, unclipped talons made for catching house cats and tearing them to shreds, and as it turned out, my heart as well." MC terrifies me, but oh wow can it keep me amused when I need a laugh.

Too many sad things have happened already this year, but perhaps that's all right, because I can sense larger gears shifting in the distance, turning and turning and turning, activating scenarios that have yet to occur. I have a little bit longer to mull life over than I had expected, so I'll just have to use that extra time.

I have lost friends, some by death, others through sheer inability to cross the street.

Virginia Woolf (1882 - 1941)


All ramblings of Erica Feggestad 2000-2009