BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

what the hell???

OK ... I sent out a post last night, about a half hour before L.J. evaporated, with the following poem. It never showed up in my jounral, despite checking repeatedly ... then L.J. went "poof" into the white "oops, we're working on it" screens. I'm assuming that my original post has gone bye-bye, although I guess it could be cached somewhere and might re-appear. I see my Friends list has not updated since last night, so maybe nothing new is getting on ... maybe this will slide off into the aether too.

I felt like crap last night, and I feel like crap today. Part of this is due to Chicago doing a damn good imitation of Merida, with humidity better suited to the jungle around Coba than the prairie. Part of it is due to all the different crap pushing in on me. I just wish I could make all the bad shit (the job search, the desperate lack of funds, the toilet that Eschaton is swirling in, all the half-finished projects, etc.) go away and focus on building the Unicity business. The stuff coming out of the convention was so exciting, that I'd LOVE to be doing that full-time, but to get to that point I need to build things up, and to be ABLE to build things up, I need to have all the other crap leave me the fuck alone! (sigh) I'm feeling emotionally again like I'm curled up in the back corner of a cage where insane sadistic freaks poke at me with sticks.

                    AN ALTERED VECTOR

                    all these extremes
                    churn in one place
                    yet across location
                    and spanning time
                    we can only vaguely
                    construct a common frame
                    to hold perception
                    and distill meaning

                    so much change
                    in such short runs
                    tainted with sickness
                    twisted by rage
                    yet filled with hope
                    and enthusiasm so rare
                    as to nearly seed belief
                    that things might turn

                    other intents
                    seem to fade
                    but they're not gone
                    only lost to time
                    drifted down
                    in hours' limits
                    unable to contain
                    all that we would need

                    now we battle
                    to reach the light
                    the forces of death
                    rush at us here
                    somehow sensing
                    we've found the exit
                    a break within
                    the crushing wall

                    all around us
                    they form the chorus
                    negating everything
                    we would hold true
                    if we escape here
                    we will destroy them
                    breaking free of chain
                    reforged to strike again

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp

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