8:55 a.m. - 2005-07-05
Recurrent Theme Rant
Home. A recurrent theme. So illusive. So easily won when pushed to the wall. So easily lost when faced with just about anything that tugs at my pliable heart. The heart so willing to deceive itself for a transcient smile. The pattern sadly emerging was that my independence shone only during those times of recovery from my self inflicted wounds. Those times in which I sought sanctuary for my own beleagured soul within my wicker cell. The times when I had no audience to please but God and my own mirror. And so I did my time, there on Burbank Boulevard, aware by then that at some point I would be released back into the cruel world and, worse still, my own devises. But, for a time, I rested my weary messianic aspirations to float once again on blue pools in the blessed privacy of anonymity. I would like to say that I read lofy tomes, but closer to reality is that I logged alot of Jerry Springer time. I bought a new cheap stereo to replace the Kittridge $29 beauty which had been misplaced in my many circuitous travels back to square one. I spent some time at the retro record store repurchasing many of my own abandoned treasures. I listened to Styx and Rush and Pink Floyd while refinishing dressers and settling into my new solo nest. Rehanging dried bouquets and thrift shop artifacts. Scattering shells and tarnished mermaids down on their luck, having lost brushes and fins in transit. Resilient and splendid in their woundedness. Brave.
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