Friday, August 25, 2006


One, a vice of one? One needs a virtuosity of vices … A symphony… Virtue /vice – reminds me too much of biblical leanings. One is the loneliest number one… Oh, piss off ear candy! Get over it. Everybody's happy writing from the attribute of virtue/ vice—except me. I can't get to the next level. Begin again. Now, I'm caught up in word puns and silly rhymes, and God forbid: pop songs  (number one)– partially because I'm so stressed. One. To contemplate. I like one, I like its aloneness, the way it stands like a sacred stone. An "I am." I like the color and the sound of it – and synesthesia strikes again. One is silver-white, and casts a pale shadow of glacial ice, it rings like a silver bell, or like that melodic crash of ice crystals. The queen of Narnia is a one. Cate Blanchett is an ice maiden, cruel, ruthless, and alone in her sleigh. Always winter. I yawn, my ears pop, finally after several days of pain. I can hear. One-eared, I was. No dulcet duet of sound. Singing in pitch was problematic when sound was a singular one. I had to rely on memory. Now I can hear every single thing. The sound of paper rustling, like an avalanche, the rough scratching of pens in unison, a scratch of pens, one in unison. One, I am one.