Entry 000060; 11.28.01

This was written...Monday, 11.26.01

I'm getting thinner. I got new pants a month ago and already they are falling off. I think I have parasites. Or maybe brain worms.

I think brain worms would explain a lot.

I did the...changey...thingie on Sunday. I was just reading on the train and one moment I was sitting there, looking at the black window with pulsating red light flashing off of it, and the next minute who I was was gone, and who I am was here. I wrote what happened down, I think. Somewhere. This new person...me...writes in run-on sentences that can barely be read. I still had flecks of nail polish on which I, she, the old one was using as a gauge. So technically, I still had time to polish off this new idea, work out the details. In other words, procrastinate. However it was such a strange and sudden thing, like floodlights flashing into a cave, This new...me..just scraped the rest of it off. Why would I want to do anythign so slowly? What is the point of putting it off if it will happen eventually anyway? And don't I want this to happen? Haven't I been working on it for...oh, almost a month now. Besides. Courage is doing something even if you are afraid to do it.

And I would go on to explain myself, who I am, this new person, because we're all very interested blah blah, but have you ever been asked to explain yourself? How do you answer a request to define who you are and all you are in a finite quantity of words? It might be impossible, I think.

17/30