Maximillian Amadeus Banzai (banzai) wrote,
Maximillian Amadeus Banzai

  • Mood:


Well after midnight in late January, and I sit outside, looking up at a nearly full moon and wondering just what's gone wrong. Nothing but blessings all around, and I'm even aware enough to be grateful, yet still restless and insecure.

The city is hushed, with a whisper of traffic from the bridge over Lake Union. The water is still and the reflections clear.

There's nothing for me to write about: I'm not that interested in documenting my day right now, or in contemplating some devotion, and I can't pin down the rest enough to put words to it. I'm not blank, really—just jumbled.

So I gave up on sleep for a while. Turned off the television and the music. For now I sit, writing the little I can because it's all I can think to do. Once it's morning, there are things I can do—sit at a coffee shop with a bagel, head into the office and get to work, whatever I like. But now, the space is just empty. Not right, but honest.
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