I have spent the better part of the night wandering through the caverns of my mind, twisting deeper into myself, looking for a clue of my Host. It’s really not my strong suit. I’m out of practice to hold this much at one time.
Now before the empty page, I draw blanks more than conclusions. My new book is pushing in directions I didn’t expect, but that is the point of seeking out a guide. I could be exhausted. My body rests more as my mind pushes ways to wander through new material. I could use the aid of extra-curricular materials to process, but expense and healthy fear prevent that option for a few more months.
I discussed James Joyce with my sister today. It was sorta amazing. I see more and more how we did grow up together. Watching her succeed in class is like watching myself through my early college years. She’s much smarter than I was, but she is older than I was, too. I admire her drive. I didn’t have that in school until the end. I kept my drive reserved for healing. A choice which benefitted me in many ways, but not academically.
In my mind, the ocean tide is out. I scan the horizon and look for her, but she’s still away. Maybe out across the sea, lost in the before places. Beyond the borders of sanity, where the world falls off the edge of maps. I wonder what color the edge is…I hope our world is like a giant gobstopper, and colors come thick in layers and texture, ever evolving into a new surface of thought. My worst fear is that it’s just dirt.
I miss my gerbil. I miss my old friends, I miss my old face. I miss Ani DiFranco leaving me lines of truth in the music.
While it feels lonely, here at the helm, I am also free. My body shapes into an older form than reinvites youth. It’s as if I’ve been wrapped in a cocoon of cool sheets, and someone unravels the fabric from my skin, It’s soft and drafts open against me, but I’m a sturdy dervish, twirling away from the dreams of yesterday. If only I knew how the dance ends.