Horrible day of guilt and blame, and shock and disbelief, as the horrible reality tries to sink in. It's incomprehsnsible, so I try to walk the line, but self punishment means I cannot meditate. I cannot believe it, so I search for realities masquerading as clues, but everywhere is blank, as if he has been scrubbed and so I cant believe it all over again. I speak in words but nobody understands what it is like to have seen him for the last time, and because of childish stupid, to have turned my face away, and so I cannot believe it some more, and I want to erase my self, just to some how square the blame. But I didnt, I stayed home, and fought to walk my structure; singing lessons, guitar lessons, piano lesosns, bounce, then write; even if it is only morning pages, just get it out, before the wiriting lessons of the afternoon. It is Truby.
Ive been doing horse quigong to try and find my chi, and make bad Hammond gone. It helps sort of . I am more here, but I am no happier in the heart; and now with francisco... it's as if a film of darkness, has formed over what was becoming bearable and clear. It's all too awful. This most maddening inabiity to properly take it in. it's as if soemone keeps erasing the tape, and each time, I have to learn the news, all over again. It just won't dawn, as it keeps riding over me, each time returning with an increasingly horrible-sad reality, that poor francisco has gone. MB
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