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May 1, 2004
I woke up feeling like a metaphor, as if some outside observer was looking thoughtfully at me and then gesturing limply toward his companion – "See! That. That man there. That is exactly how it is, you know; that is exactly the trouble with things these days." It was a vague yet intense sort of feeling, like when you walk out of your house and are bombarded with sourceless nostalgia for a spring day that was identical yet forgotten. When you feel like a metaphor, every movement becomes exaggerated, imbued with a significance that nearly stuns one into motionlessness, or silence.