i don't want to be the dupe of cruel optimism, and i know his leg is torn, but when i see him walk i keep thinking maybe it'll be alright. 

it's been so quiet after yesterday seeing the bike crash and bloody head wound and jumping in the crazy waves and losing my glasses, and the blurred periphery and sirens screaming. there a throbbing digital bass note coming from a festival in the giant footprint of the future obamaland that sounds distant though it seems near. 

where do we go from here?