v u l v a l i c i o u s
One Two Three Connections
Rhisomatic structure. There is no beginning and no end. The possibilities for connection extend outwards and inwards to infinity. I follow my spiral pattern, first in, then out, wondering if there will be an end.
Just when you think you've found a connection, it disappears. Three more appear in its place.
I think all things, good or bad, eventually come in threes. Last night, while writing, the following spilled out of my head in threes: Razz, Raze, Black. Three tongues teasing me, laughing. Three pairs of legs and feet in steel-toe boots knocking down my well-made plans. Three miles of clouds descending to make the sky dark by three in the afternoon, like the omninous winter prophecy that was foretold at the changing of the clocks.
I listened to Keep on Livin' and heard sky repeated three times and took it as a sign that some things are meant to be.
But why does my head feel heavy and light all at once, and why do I feel like I can't do anything?
And where does my Cunt fit in all of this madness?
Nowhere, I think. No where at all.