Dancing · in · Bingo · Halls

I realise, after trying, on and off all day- while I ate breakfast, in between customers at Bookmarks, drafting ona  train- that I have no idea how to blog yesterday. I have no way of adding it up, working it out. There is no outcome. It was a day, a long one, a busy one, and I have nothing to show for it but photographs that are nothing but binary.

How odd it was seeing my friends- whom I have known for, varyingly, six months to nearly five years- from the edge of a circle. How odd to see them through his eyes. Clever, laughing people. (These modern people, living on the knife edge of technology. These wild people, living in-between their dreams. These new, fast people who are so different- from what?) Memory turns the day to a blur of mistake and movement and loud, fast voices. I was walking a razorblade all day. Learned behaviour! This is what to blame. How do we act when simultaneously in three rather opposing situations? 

I just want to close my eyes and recite poetry in my head. In twenty snowy mountains-

It was probably a good day. It's hard to tell. Parts of it were great, undeniably. Yes: a good day. More or less.