24 Hours to Go

...till i'm at the airport.


i'm thinking of "The Bells" by Poe, how there are so many differing kinds of bells in his poem. Its face value is an isolated observation of madness, but humans rely so much on bells--culturally and so forth.

sunday church bells, wedding bells, funereal, Liberty Bells with cracks in them that still can ring, forget your perfect offering...

if i could strike some bells they'd resound like echoes of brass water. i would say the goodbye that is noble; not the one that pleases someone else. noble, to myself that is.

i've cheated myself out of a life for so long, and it all made perfect sense. spiritual impoverishment is a daily study, such as is a regimen of exercise. you wear yourself down, you give them a reason to agree with what a failure you've become...you stop being able to understand and trust your instincts because when a shake-up comes....when your logic is compromised, it is imperative to find balance, if it takes you your whole life.

i can't blame her, even if i should. it's not about blame, but rather simply looking ahead.

i've begun to feel more solid, as though crying (as i'm doing a bit of) will not melt me, but is not the only way to cleanse me either. during the numbness periods i welcomed a single stupid tear that squeezed its way out. it's the bleeding of the soul, i think.

i've thought of tattoos i want to get in the near future...i've thought about how listening is more important than talking right now. i really want this. to succeed like i never had before. school was a given b/c of my upbringing, and i was lucky to have a decent education. but i never had the trust in anyone or anything...it was always thin ice, that powerful people could see, and were pretty much invited to chisel away at as they pleased.

the worst pain in my life has come from women. i plan to reach out now, find my role, head off any need for attack. debate is healthy, even though it's not my thing...competition is natural, but i prefer to set my own standards. my head's screwed on ok, for a change.

i've never been this patient before, really...other than when i had no choice, when i couldn't move and was attached to tubes. strangely though, the doc said i healed faster than they thought i would, and sent me home. and that's where the sickness found me once again.

it's hard saying goodbye to my birds. i just trust i'll see them along the way, doing bird things and squawking and everything. they know me the best, i guess.

one little demoness keeps popping up, and that's the demoness of the term, "self-mythologizing." i believe you have to do what you must to have self-esteem, to travel to the beat of your own drum and a bunch of other cliches. it's hard when you're naturally prone to dark sarcasm, and especially when you turn that in upon yourself...its effects can be disatrous. there is a difference between narcissistic personality disorder and self-mythologizing. reading about greek goddesses and female artists, visionaries, leaders...and looking for that connection from within yourself to their stories, that's good work for everybody.

looking to overturn the dominant ideologies and challenging people to think...that's good work. i guess if you have to come home from work or school everyday and transform from Athena back into a comfy little shlub, then yeah. thats what myths are for.

sometimes when i look into a talented person's face i can see an archetype there, for a Calliope...and i think, "i'm lucky to know a little bit about her, this Calliope." i know i'm using heavy-duty greek shit, but it was my earliest memories of bedtime stories, the D'Aulaires. i wonder how many copies of that i recommended to a customer.

myths and fables are what we were given by our ancestors to work with, whether they be the werewolves, or the mermaids, or the naiads, or the vampires...big cash crop for myths. some argue that religion and mythology are deeply connected. i don't give a shit at this point. it is 5am and i am gassy from a cheesesteak.

not all freaks can get along.