YOU, ME, AND DEBRIS
If I was so off my groove before the flood started, I'm a gazillion nautical miles further away now. Everything is just so off-kilter. The static in the air is a soup of unfamiliarity, and anything and everything that I know to be me and mine just sloughs off my skin and into the sludge.
I feel so out of synch, it's like I'm watching a movie of my life by David Fincher.
I blame the little odds and ends that seem to break off, the little fringes of comfort and excitement that crack and shatter and float away, like flotsam and jetsam. Only, there's too much of me in the debris.
I have a trip coming up in a week and a half, a trip to the States for a month. As much as I want to keep the pressure off it, there's a lot riding on this holiday. It's a vision quest in every sense, except instead of a talking coyote and a sweat lodge it'll be an angry black man at a Denny's.
I'm tolerating everything that's platonic in my life right now, because I'm hoping that this trip will fix it. I don't even fight the dull staccato of everyday; because I'm looking forward to this trip to provide me an answer. I'll be brave enough and smart enough to retrieve that part of me that broke off and still believes that life should be epic and fiery, not this grey domestic mess of work and routine.
14,000 km is a long way for debris to travel. Question is, when a part of you has gone that far, can you still catch up with it?
I feel so out of synch, it's like I'm watching a movie of my life by David Fincher.
I blame the little odds and ends that seem to break off, the little fringes of comfort and excitement that crack and shatter and float away, like flotsam and jetsam. Only, there's too much of me in the debris.
I have a trip coming up in a week and a half, a trip to the States for a month. As much as I want to keep the pressure off it, there's a lot riding on this holiday. It's a vision quest in every sense, except instead of a talking coyote and a sweat lodge it'll be an angry black man at a Denny's.
I'm tolerating everything that's platonic in my life right now, because I'm hoping that this trip will fix it. I don't even fight the dull staccato of everyday; because I'm looking forward to this trip to provide me an answer. I'll be brave enough and smart enough to retrieve that part of me that broke off and still believes that life should be epic and fiery, not this grey domestic mess of work and routine.
14,000 km is a long way for debris to travel. Question is, when a part of you has gone that far, can you still catch up with it?