June 21 2005 Tuesday 9.50 PM

I'm not profound at night. Maybe a little damp and a little groggy from dinner and pillows and lack of sleep. sitting about trying to be profound brings about the most abject depression. It is also futile. Sometimes I get up and wonder about God for awhile. Or jellyfish. Sometimes He speaks to me in the little noises. Sometimes I just hear things. Sometimes I sprawl about with dripping languor and dream about craters and tunnels of my childhood. That wonderful misty red air. I grip the blankets and am fitful for awhile. Lost in the dream of little stars...

- adam