people will laugh when they aren't happy and cry when they are. i'm reading about sick souls and william james. the writer says he's a sick soul. i wonder. i would have said, i would say, i was a sick soul, but i think it's a question of balance, between soul and fellow soul and world. i didn't feel fit for human society. i felt estranged. yet i also felt estranged within. i don't feel that now. i feel myself, and the world grows more estranged by human society and bad habits like genocide and habitat destruction. we made a world we can hardly live in. but i feel at home in my own skin, and porous with the dwindling nature of the world. i want to think about the film we saw last night, eureka, by lisandro alonso. he says he wants to make puzzling movies, and they are, and because of that, if i can allow myself, i feel freed of expectation, and then a different sort of continuity happens, but after the film ends i'm thrumming, and after that i want to know more, i want to understand something, not about the narrative, but about the strange familiar life i'm living within the mysterious world. anyway, olive palestine woke me hopping to my face at 4am, and then the 1st spring thunderstorm came. p.w. wrote in apology for not responding, saying he lives in a bubble, and i felt he was going to continue that and that was ok. now i see bubbles rising, and remember i saw a bubble wand on the ground yesterday, and thought of picking it up, but i left it laying there, lonely.