lurking in my own mind....
a lot happening... posts I've started by haven't finished, bubbles burst, debts amassed, small triumphs and joys, small heartbreaks...
experiences, observations, hopes and dreams, alternately happy and sad...
doors closed and windows open...
and many many many deaths. There are so many new spirits traveling these days it's almost freaky. People are born and die every day... but it seems like in the last three or four weeks the Angel Death has been on a massive reclaiming mission. Cleaning house. The obvious well-known ones like Ed McMahon, Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, but several other lesser-known and more beloved... people that I've met or am separated from someone I know by a degree or two. Cousins and uncles, lovers, mothers, friends. It's a little weird.
My sun has finished school for the year; a new 5th grader. He's almost as tall as I am; I watch he and the Moon tumble over each other, their limbs thickening and getting long, hands getting heavier. The Moon's voice is suddenly husky and hoarse, the Sun's peach fuzz is noticed by everyone at first glance. They push and shove on each other constantly.
Cricket and I had small success with our first creation and I am heartened by that. And I thought other things might be going somewhere but oddly enough, the more successful we are, the more it becomes apparent we aren't going anywhere. Well, he's not. I went there years ago. And it's not like I haven't been preparing myself for it but shit... once again it happened the same way it usually does and that really disappointed me. I don't get why folk just can't spit shit out. I really don't... The thing is I've had the opportunity to question how I felt about one thing or another, and the realization that I had made a promise to be honest made me all the more careful about things I could have done, avenues I could have pursued.
But apparently I was the only one honoring that promise. Pisses me the fuck off. Makes me sad as hell. I've decided I hate summer. I hate that I keep ending up in the same spot at the same time, especially since I've spent a lot of time really trying to figure out why I keep ending up here, trying to redirect my steps, my approach.
Today was one of those days were I just don't see the value in being kind or honest or understanding. I get a lot of admiration for it, but it doesn't seem to be doing me personally any good.
But an interesting thing happened in that right when I was learning that like most men, Cricket is full of shit, the Slut turned up. In a way, it made my day. Well, it at least made it interesting.
experiences, observations, hopes and dreams, alternately happy and sad...
doors closed and windows open...
and many many many deaths. There are so many new spirits traveling these days it's almost freaky. People are born and die every day... but it seems like in the last three or four weeks the Angel Death has been on a massive reclaiming mission. Cleaning house. The obvious well-known ones like Ed McMahon, Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, but several other lesser-known and more beloved... people that I've met or am separated from someone I know by a degree or two. Cousins and uncles, lovers, mothers, friends. It's a little weird.
My sun has finished school for the year; a new 5th grader. He's almost as tall as I am; I watch he and the Moon tumble over each other, their limbs thickening and getting long, hands getting heavier. The Moon's voice is suddenly husky and hoarse, the Sun's peach fuzz is noticed by everyone at first glance. They push and shove on each other constantly.
Cricket and I had small success with our first creation and I am heartened by that. And I thought other things might be going somewhere but oddly enough, the more successful we are, the more it becomes apparent we aren't going anywhere. Well, he's not. I went there years ago. And it's not like I haven't been preparing myself for it but shit... once again it happened the same way it usually does and that really disappointed me. I don't get why folk just can't spit shit out. I really don't... The thing is I've had the opportunity to question how I felt about one thing or another, and the realization that I had made a promise to be honest made me all the more careful about things I could have done, avenues I could have pursued.
But apparently I was the only one honoring that promise. Pisses me the fuck off. Makes me sad as hell. I've decided I hate summer. I hate that I keep ending up in the same spot at the same time, especially since I've spent a lot of time really trying to figure out why I keep ending up here, trying to redirect my steps, my approach.
Today was one of those days were I just don't see the value in being kind or honest or understanding. I get a lot of admiration for it, but it doesn't seem to be doing me personally any good.
But an interesting thing happened in that right when I was learning that like most men, Cricket is full of shit, the Slut turned up. In a way, it made my day. Well, it at least made it interesting.
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