as if the running and the hiding were anything but just distracting at this time of the night/morning depending on which side of it you happen to be sitting on - it's a foggie distinction for me at the moment - there are two things that normally will keep me fitfully not sleeping: the anger, the fear - the constant companions of many - sometimes they take walks with: the resentment, the loathing - especially - the self loathing -
persecution complex like apartment buildings densely grouped together and the kids are hanging in the stairwells drinking this and smoking that and sniffing and snorting and copping a whatever from whomever 'cause they got no place to go to and it's fucking cold outside and they're fucking sick of being home and always being told what they should do or else being totally ignored - it's good training actually for the fantasy bazar that's the coming soon attraction - oh the movies that we play up in our heads - that's what makes the world go round -
still it's not as if this is that much bettter than the pool hall was for hours with led zepplin on the juke box and playing foosbal and wondering how the hell we'd ever get the money for whatever thing we wanted - no, it was not distraction, it was not escape, exactly - maybe a little bit of that, because escape is beauty really, and beauty really is escape, and what more could anyone expect for anybody else than the genuine desire to experience some beauty, and for that to be in some way to say escape? - but still, it was not that exactly, it was that to the extent that it was desire for beauty, but not just beauty, desire for the sublime, desire for the divine, desire for the greatness of the void - you know being blown completely out of it - away, turned on and turned inside out, grabbed hold of and sent out, way out to outer fucking space - yeah, fuck it - that is escape isn't it? beautiful and wonderul and magical and marvelous escape - gimme that!