H O P S C O T C H

prev | next

2003-03-17

I was cutting is hair again in the bathroom but the little snips didn't even out like they usually did. A buzz cut and him looking very English football needing a jersey.

Many a day I can't find a face. There's nothing to look for in the mirror and nothing that I really wholeheartedly offer to anyone else. Just an odd half-dissonant glance while walking fast. I know I must seem so queer some days but the disappointment is on my heels.

I've had trouble finding good, earthy people with plain-speak and a little bit of God and humility in their limbs. It makes me feel so isolated even working with people. I can spot it in janitors I speak with and children who haven't been done in but even that I know I'm not so dilated for day-to-day dialogue.

It's been a long winter; I feel Irish in the cloudy gray movie sense with crumbling bricks. It has finally broke above freezing.



archive | diaryland