I can't say it like I write it...I can't write it like I think it...I can't think it like I feel it...and I don't feel a thing.
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
i know what grace is, and i know its what im forgetting, but its that long journey i mentioned...filled with road blocks and pot holes and traffic jams.
He heard the words drag out. He felt them pull out of his mouth like freight cars, jangling, backing up on each other, grating to a halt, sliding, clinching back, jarring, and then suddenly stopping as roughly as they had begun. It was over. --Flannery O'Connor, "The Barber"
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