Completed Ginsberg’s Howl. How refreshing his words are. Common words rearranged in different forms and new juxtapositions. And like all great art, in his common observations of everyday things, he illuminates the universal.

Also finished Acker’s Great Expectations. An odd occurrence while reading: a portion of the end was duplicated and bound in with the rest of the book. The problem with avant grade writing is that you can’t separate intentional otherness from common mistakes. Either my version was bound incorrectly, or it wasn’t, but I have already gleaned my experience and meaning from the copy I had to read and that can never be erased. I don’t think she would mind. Part of postmodern reductionism is everything is art.

Everything is true. Everything is divine.

How pure that makes one’s meagre contribution to society.

She was quiet on the phone. She’s usually quiet at times like these. Times like these, they happen.

I should have known. She’d been more talkative lately. AIM. Email. The phone. Times like these, she’s more talkative.

She sniffled. Whispered something.

“What was that, again?”

She used to hate when I said that. I always say it. I never pay attention, and for three years we tried talking with our backs to each other. Maybe that was the problem. Too stupid to care enough to turn around before opening our big mouths. “Don’t fucking say that!” She’d say. “I hate it when you say that.” Quickly quelled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“What was that again?” She wasn’t trying to restrain her tears. She was trying to restrain the sound of her tears, so they wouldn’t go running for help down the other end of the phone.

But times like these. Times like these, I eventually remember. Times like these I remember the quiet isn’t peace and the sniffles aren’t allergies, and the absentminded conversation isn’t her reading email while she’s on the phone.

Times like these it’s her, alone, crying, in the middle of a room that’s too big for such a little girl but still not big enough for the woman hiding inside.

She finds it easy to talk to me. I like to think it’s because we have some history, some spark. I like to think we have something special, even after the treading, the trampling, something sullied, walked-on, and flattened, but still special. But it’s probably not that special. Nothing special the way you’d want it to be special. A boy’s best friend, and then it makes you wonder if it was ever special, and you can remember. You can’t remember specifics, but you remember special. Times like these I remember something special.

But I can’t remember specifics. She can. All the little details. “…used to throw yourself on me… you’d just stare at me‚… always hold me‚… looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Her mom said something like that once. Like she could trust me because of the way I looked at her daughter, like I cared, like I cared something more.

I get real surprised when people do something nice for me. It floors me, and my pride stands demanding immediate repayment. Something. Anything. It was my pride. My pride drove those years as much as anything. A constant drive to give something back. And on the other side, I can remember something special. Something special, so special I spent years trying to pay it back, but I never could.

I never can.

My roommate bought groceries. She bought me yogurt. Yoplait yogurt. Six little plastic, healthy, foil-topped breakfasts. Something floored me. Floored by yogurt. How much more floored I must’ve been when I was given a heart.

The other day I bought a magnet from Cities: “Dance like no one’s watching. Work like you don’t need the money. Sing like no one’s listening. Love like you’ve never been hurt.” Love like you’re not afraid.

Times like these, they happen. Times like these, I’m not afraid. Times like these, I’ve never been hurt.

Or, the I’ Ching said something along those lines, and in many ways, it is correct, as it always is. Continually, I am blown away by how dead on the readings are, and the Tao te ching is just jaw dropping.

To understand as much wisdom from the Bible, I think you really need to be in an altered state, where the Tao is just straightforward.

“Now the bad news. The Justice Department has eased restrictions on domestic spying, giving the FBI greater authority to monitor libraries and other organizations. An especially cheery item to note is that ‘the new guidelines give FBI agents more freedom to investigate terrorism even when they are not pursuing a particular case.’ Tip for library users: if you need a book about bomb making, terrorism or anarchy, steal, do not borrow; you don’t want to that kind of stuff on your ‘library record’. A good discussion about this development is under way at Web4Lib. If you are not a subscriber, you can read the archive. Look for the ‘FBI to monitor libraries’ thread.”

Actually written by the appropriately named Rogue Librarian.

I.

She: “If you had just gotten a place and come and whisked me away, then I wouldn’t have left you.”

He: “If you hadn’t spent all your time telling me you didn’t want me around, then maybe I would have.”

II.

He: “If you’d only had more faith in me, then maybe I would have worked harder.”

She: “If you’d come and taken me away, then I would have had more faith in you.”