It's funny, the things we latch on to. The things that become a part of us, and of our story. The things we would miss the most, if they were suddenly unavailable, unattainable, untouchable;the things that are more precious than diamonds or gold.
I've always been a sentimental fool. I've always been in love with the moments;memories captured for eternity;human art.
Our beach has a new look. The violent currents caused the water to cut a new path on the same journey. It's different but familiar. It's lovely.
Sitting alone by the water. I evaluate the new landscape. A little afraid, because I'm fragile, but also at peace because I am also strong and bold. The waters are calmer than last time I was here. Still, they hold the scars of the storm. The shores and currents have found a new way. The shore had to give a bit, while the currents thrashed about, but it held strong enough. It inspires me.
This beautiful, brooding, complicated, adventurous, playful husband of mine...
Kismet:fate; destiny
"Spacegrass"
Dodge Swinger 1973, Galaxy 500,
All The Way Stars' Green, Gotta Go.
Dodge Swinger 1973, Top Down, Chassis Low,
Panel Dim, Light Drive, Jesus On The Dashboard.
T-Minus Whenever It Feels Right, Galaxy 500.
Planets Align, A King Is Born.
Whenever It Feels Right
Whenever It Feels Right
Whenever It Feels Right
Whenever It Feels Right
Dodge Swinger 1973, Top Down, Chassis Free,
Buzz Aldrin, Armstrong, Or Maybe Just Me.
Don't Worry, It's Coming.
Don't Worry, It's Coming.
Jesus On The Dashboard.
Whenever It Feels Right
Whenever It Feels Right
Whenever It Feels Right
I Turn On The Radio.
Hey Kid, Are You Going My Way?
Hop In, We'll Have Ourselves A Field Day.
We'll Find Us Some Spacegrass,
Lay Low, Watch The Universe Expand.
Skyway, Permanent Saturday.
Oh, By The Way, Saturn Is My Rotary.
Hop In, It'll Be Eternity
Till We Make It To M83.
Once Around The Sun, Cruising, Climbing.
Jupiter Cyclops Winks At Me, Yeah, He Knows Who's Driving.
Hit Neutral In The Tail Of A Comet.
Let The Vortex Pull My Weight.
Push The Seat Back A Little Lower.
Watch Light Bend In The Blower.
Planets Align.
A King Is Born.
Dodge Swinger.
Jesus On The Dashboard.
Whenever It Feels Right
Whenever It Feels Right
Whenever It Feels Right
Whenever It Feels Right
After the storm, the real work begins. Before you can begin to clean up, you must survey the storm damage. I haven't been very good at that in the past. It has been too easy to mostly ignore the damage... Brush the fallen limbs into a corner of the yard, and ignore how the roof is beginning to show wear.
That has been my way. Don't look and it doesn't exist. Don't check the mail, and the bills aren't really there. Don't look at the bank account, and there's no need to worry about the overdraft charges. Don't look at the problems, don't give them an ounce of validation, and they aren't real...
Only, they are real. And when I'm not looking the problems grow.
Ignore, bury, sweep, deny, check out. That has been my mantra; my coping mechanism. I don't know where I picked it up, but I know that it isn't working. It hasn't ever worked. I only thought it did.
Today I commit to myself to survey the storm damage; to check the mail, to open the bills, to review all the problems, and begin to build a new life, a new me.
Freedom from despair leaves room for rebuilding. Remembering the relationships I haven't been nurturing. Freedom from despair allows me to love without strings attached.
Today I was able to enjoy the company of my family. This is no small thing after such a long journey in the dark.
The post apocalyptic break allowed the guilt to consume my soul. My desperation reached a fever pitch as I realized the damage of my implosion. A moment of clarity brought the pictures of my dear ones faces, and shook me from my rage. Guilt was all that was left behind.
Failure. Destroyer.
My flame burned bright and hot against the storm. My rage poured out on innocent and guilty alike. The pain no longer able to be contained. The fire burst from me, and consumed all in my path. The smell of smoke and gasoline hung in the air. The victims of my tirade forever scorched.
As the smoke cleared, the guilt pouring in like fog.
