Hastening along, Schrieber telegraphed his message, his motive, and his opinion all by his body language: taught at the shoulders; loose in the knee and ankle; eyes that darted as fish from loud, invisible barriers crashing against the constant numb of the deepest, wet depths.
Hippety-hop, his feet hopped, shook, hopped. Clackety-click his teeth chattered, and his blubbered jowls waved in the gravity of force.
Mastered, Haiti, Asking
truth. hiatus, belief
Blanketed, Blasphemed; Bereft,
kind helper antwerp
Ensconced, Empty Ego,
Breath larder begin
On Xmas of 1992 my brother gave me this journal made of recycled paper with a twig pencil. I eventually filled it up sporadically up to 1995. I dug it out, dusted it off, and started looking through it today, May 6th, 2013. I've decided to reproduce the posts online. It's raw and sure to be embarrassing, but I feel enough time has passed that I can distance myself, yet find a very familiar me within these lines and perhaps find the inspiration to take up the pen again..... Thanks, big Bro.
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