Thursday, January 06, 2005

Ha-ha, Ha-ha, The joke has come upon me....

"I think about the life I've led, and how my soul's been leaking out the holes where I had bled".

courtesy of Black Francis.

I stand at the threshold, looking both ways...once, twice, three times. I still don't move. There is no traffic, and no hand to hold. Old souls gather behind me, future soul stands before me. It has the answers, I know it. But how do I get there? Dora has her backpack, which holds her map. She makes it look so easy. Maybe it is. If I take the first step, I know I can never go back.

Indifference. I believe it came my way the day I stepped out of a marriage I once had. I never really wanted that marriage, yet it haunts me to this day. My mind is perferated with it between my birthday to the anniversary date each year. It comes to me repeatedly in my dreams, at times, I beg for it to stop. I tell myself that I have dealt with it, but it's a lie. If I had, it wouldn't come back, right? Maybe it is the other parties involved who haven't dealt with it, and it is their issues which are pressing down on me. Each one comes to me, with their own twisted bend on how my life should be. I often feel that my son isn't safe, as many of their topics revolve around him. "He is the innocent- he does not pay for me" I tell them in numerous dream states. The dream field seems unstable, just like my current reality.

When I was younger, I always felt like I was running out of time. Now, I feel like I am just waiting. For what, I don't know. Maybe I am tired, and want others to do for me. My soul tells me I need to do it myself. I long for the world without checkbooks. It is a far easier world, I have seen it. I tried living in it, but like every tourist I needed to return home. My visa had expired. So now, I am home. I'm not enjoying it much at this time. It's like a cage, and all the creepiness is the lessons that I must learn in order to visit that land again. I can't help feeling cheated. Being home, in this body is indeed the foreign land to me. I had been away so long I had almost forgotten the language and the customs. Those who love me say it is good that I've come back- they have missed me. I am honest with them. I have missed them too, but I have come back to complete the mission so I can again return to the the place that is to be my next home. I can't explain why- it is what I feel.

"Your head will collapse if there is nothing in it. And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind?"


1 comment:

Ron said...

I live, like Cammie, in a town that views waiting at lights as a "first offer." If no other offer comes along, quick enough, especially quick enough, we walk anyway, seeking speed not the comfort of a warm hand.

Cammie makes good soup from her energies, right now from a very nice cookbook, but she knows what soup is made of ; she just doesn't believe it yet. Souls, old and young , like soup, but just because they do doesn't mean that they don't have to wait for boiling pots like anyone else.

Me, I try to make letters to put in soup, but that type of soup gets no real respect, except from Cammie's son who reads me the letters as they climb to the top of the coconut tree. So I guess I should keep writing.

When Cammie was younger she felt she was out of time and now she's waiting; she's finally perceived that she's in the Army of Life. "Hurry up and wait!", we dogfaces growl. But, it's just the goddamn Army, Cammie, don't take it too seriously, we're all short!

I understand about being haunted by something that I didn't really want,(it's the Cliff Notes definition of an ex-spouse is!) which is why I ask for Christmas gifts that have meaning for me...and I usually get, a cheese log.

My own vanity prohibits me from believing that someone who has twisted bent energies around me to such good effect could really be indifferent. Either Cammie has so much energy that she can weave that skein indifferently, or I'm a tougher nut to crack and she's plain clueless about how much pizzazz she has already brought to Overdrafts like me. and remember: Checkbook-free-land doesn't have the delightful metaphor of "bouncing" like we do here, dear Cammie. Pleasures grow like mushrooms in shit and darkness, but we still eat them, and actually enjoy them quite a lot. Isn't that the morel of our story?

Strong, loving, gentle now, Cammie! The next land can take care of itself, but this one needs such loci/foci that prisms like you can break apart the light into the colors that add sensual depth to everything, everyone, everyplace in the world even if it's just your house. But, then, I'm not telling you something you don't already know...

Jokes? Oy, you want jokes? There aren't enough rim shots in the world...but you're a beautiful audience, Cammie, and I'm here through the rest of the week.