stride of the mind

Maybe not smoking is the reason I can't sleep? Anyway I'm still glad I'm quitting.

Rereading the poem Cristina sent me last summer that let me know she was into me, talking about my cowlick, my round hips and farmboys, and digging how my response poem riffed on her words. Oh, syncopation.

And realizing that the complexity and lapses and contradictions of my self, my body, me the bodysubject (thanks M-P!) are really what makes being alive so rich and wonderful and yeah it's hard but maybe I should just be a little less hard on myself. No less critical, but less hard. I can be many things at once, let these things fall away, become otherwise, stop clinging.

difference and identity, etc. Good night.