Several Minutes have passed...
Mood: Disconsolate
Listening to: Trying to ignore the "I Am Sam" soundtrack
Several minutes have passed since my last (and first) entry. My throat is scratchy and my powers are weak. The eyes, poor things, ache in their lonely sockets.
Language is wasted. I hereby resolve never to say what I have said before.
Development of the nervous system is advanced in literate, industrial-electronic societies. It flounders on its throne. I would have this organ serve the flesh as its brethren do. I would grip both mind and body as arising waves of simultaneous sensation -- & may they revolve into singularity to be thus grasped in the same unseen hand.
The smile cannot see my heart.
