Journal-October 2, 2007

Oh God: to live this earthly tumult of man is blinding, though the slow pain of a growing squint and not as monumentally painless as a flash of light. And as that erotic sun laps the last bit of day from my hands, I pat her upon the head and repeat such mindless duties as “Hurry along now.” Her ferocity makes me lover her right now, but my eyes have…(incomplete)

{I discovered this incomplete piece in my English 3 journal, but I was unable to locate the prompt for it. My description of a blinding mankind is tactilely focused to me, and I feel the pain of a growing squint each time I reread the sentence. The hand-lapping personification reappears in my November 7 journal entry, though I am undecided about which context I favor.}

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