take some time out

Ok ok. They asked for something of substance here something raw and personal. You get that every once and awhile. I suppose upon cursory examination its all there, exposed in the moonlight -- all you have to do is look. Perhaps you do. Then again, its so easy to make judgments, so easy to laugh at it all, without processing a damn thing. People have said it for ages: it is really about time, space, and memory. The three things you cannot escape, no matter how hard you try. This all ends in some cold, emotional truth-- best expressed in the transience of life. Best expressed in the wryness of her smile, one that I hope is true, that I have to believe is of some index, some touch of happiness in the moment. I read and I learn and I persevere as much as I can-- without sitting straight and producing something. Excitement? Content? A coherent passage into reality. I sit here pulling out the maps of prior memories, hopes, wishes and dreams. They are all I have left, as you'd imagine I'd say. A sick, perverse, bitter conformity to the whims of the present. You could say this at any age, if you were simplistic about it. This point, this irrational moment occurred a few months ago and haunts me still. Memories, especially ones relating to unexplainable incidents have a way of doing that -- of deteriorating all our senses by feeding them informaiton they cannot process. That is what happened to me. I am still recovering from the bruises and burns in my psyche. Funny how I have to go through this everytime, to cut through it all before I can start thinking clearly, before I can start writing.