I love this discontinuum of time and space which arises in this haze. life seems to come between blinks of darkness. Life is not a fluid motion, it comes in pulses - and in between the darkness when...oh whatever. Another pleasant effect: it is impossible to read or remember more than five words at a time. And no matter how many times you try, you know the...there we go train of chain lost. this notebook seems to be forcing itself back up. My hand feels weak - and now I tear the page by mistake - but that already feels so long ago. I love this. Sounds incidentally also comes in pulses. You hear one sound then silence then sound. Everything - all the senses oh whatever again I forget. I am tired of writing. Is that old man looking at me? At my drug induced delirium - is he invwardly frowning in moral opprobation? Who cares. Will instead look out the window as people appear in slow motion frames...
amsterdam
