April 28, 2006 - 1:02
A couple smells that recur to me like they're really there:
Balsamic vinegar from the Karcher Mall Blimpie, mingling with the nail acrylic at the salon one store down.
Elementary school cafeteria crispito.
Some barriers that stand in the way of my writing down wandering thoughts when I'm "on the go":
When I'm thinking a thought that I deem worthy of recording, I don't usually act on it because I fall out of the state in which the thought occured, and which I want it written, by the physical act of writing.
In a similar vein, but off this specific topic; on the occasion that I find myself alone and in a pleasant state of mind, I don't want any distractions in my frame at all, not even my own movement, because I am desperate to stay in it. Today this happened when I was sitting out on the patio, absorbed in the idea of "quietly hopeful", when a woman complimented me on my skirt.
On the subject before the colin: I dislike writing in small books, like the kind you'd keep in a purse.
I've been really aware to the point of removed from my happy moments lately. I'll often think something similar to "Alright, I'm happy right now." during the course of them. And with an almost pained consciousness of my happiness, comes a looming awareness that I'm going to come out of it soon.
I just wish I wasn't always bracing myself.