if ever i nEed a song to sing....

Not Another Minute (Without You)

Dear God
Where are you in my life?
Where am I? In the light?
Or deep in shadow? tell me now, Oh Lord
God
My heart is near to breaking
In the pains of my own making
Touch me now, Oh Lord
I can't take another minute without you

Dear God
Do you love me even still?
As when I was in your will?
Or was I ever? tell me now, Oh Lord
God
The emptiness is killing me
Like harps hung in the willow tree
Touch me now, Oh Lord
I won't last another moment without you

Touch me Lord
Fill me with your Holy Spirit
By the blood of your son,
Oh sweet Jesus, please be mine
Touch me Lord and let me know that I'm still loved
Wash me clean from all the sins I bear
Let me feel your presence everywhere
But especially, Lord, heal my soul

Dear God
Must I spend my lifetime weeping?
Pray my soul that you'll be keeping?
When my last breath is spent? tell me now, Oh Lord
God
I want to spend my whole life loving you
Free of guilt and shame~ just loving you
Touch me now, or when it pleases you
Restore my soul, I beg of you
Touch me now, Oh Lord
I can't take another minute...
No, not another minute without you


ELAshley
030512.031842.6

A song... in the vein of ...Roland Orzibal's Mad World ...dark and despairing. Or perhaps not so dark... something along the lines of Twila Paris or Michael W. Smith? I'm still working out the melody.


 

... and halfway through The Voice

Broken

Broken in two
The sky full of blue
Sun shining brightly
On the day I lost you
Heavy as a cloud in the sky
Light as the tears burning in my eye
I'm broken in two
Nothing left to do
But say goodbye

Broken in two
Thought you loved me too
Thought your heart yearned for me
The way I yearn for you
Every bird in its high high tree
Sings a dirge for the heart in me
Broken in two
Nothing left to do
But weep and cry

If my heart were an ocean
There'd be nothing you could do
Oceans can't be broken
They're not in love with you
And if I weren't so tangled
In all the pain you left behind
Perhaps I could forgive you
But you don't care either way, so...
Never mind

Broken in two
I'm broken, it's true
Tomorrow I'll forget you
Or in a year, maybe two
I could take some time to lick my wounds
Try to get my heart strings back in tune
But today I feel broken
With nothing left to do, but
Weep and cry

If my heart were an ocean
There'd be nothing you could do (to me)
Oceans can't be broken
They're not in love with you
And if I weren't so torn and tangled
In the pains you smugly left behind
Perhaps I could forgive you
But you won't care either way
So never mind

Tomorrow I'll forget you
Or in a year or maybe two
But today I'm still broken
Nothing more I can say but...
Goodbye
Goodbye
We were two
Now I'm one
Goodbye


ELAshley
062811.1048.6
Revisions
062911.090545.1

Halfway through the last performance episode of The Voice, I began writing. This song is the end result.

the frog in the well

I spoke with a man today at my favorite Indian restaurant. He described his "ascension" to the American way of life as a frog in a well. He said one rarely recognizes the climes one inhabits when it is all one has ever known. It is only when one climbs out of the well of his life and sees beyond the rim of sky, that he learns to appreciate what he has attained, and from what he has come. America was an eye-opener for him. He knew things here were different, but it took coming here and spending time to really grasp the differences between living in India and living in America. I understood all too well what he meant; I've spent time in foreign countries, albeit many years ago. But I've recently come to learn there is another kind of well... the kind we can fall into.

I've never been rich, but neither have I been so poor that I feared for where I might sleep at night, or if I could keep my dog with me. I know I have a home in Panama City-- my family would take me in --but I never considered how important it was to save for a rainy day. I, like too many others, have spent the money as it came in on the 'necessities' of living in America. I never thought I could ever be homeless, but now I find myself tipping on that very edge. I am that frog... on the edge of an abyss, with the forces of economics (among other things I'll not speak of) pushing me closer to the edge and into darkness. I need money. Lots of it. Or the cart throws a wheel; the horse, its shoe, and the frog leaps free-fall into obscurity.

I still have my job, though it has never really paid enough. I still have my car, though it is twenty years old and in constant need of repair. I still have a roof over my head, though new circumstances threaten to strip even that away. I've been in the well before, though I never saw it as such and, I'm sad to say, never thought to catalog its lessons, let alone remember them. But this is new. I spent the last two decades climbing out, in pursuit of riches-- those things I thought declared loud enough that I lived above the earth (though beneath the sky) --and even they seem to have eluded me.

One man climbs out, another falls in. I could blame partisan politics for the current state of the economy (and do) but that does nothing for my present predicament-- I could blame myself and be closer to the mark, but who truly thinks such things could come to harry them back into obscurity? The economy is not getting any better, unemployment is still too high, and inflation is still right around the corner. And I may also be there soon, just around the corner... me, my dog, a guitar, and every scrap of dignity I have left in a small canvas bag.

That may seem an image worth hanging like a Rockwell, but it's frightening as hell to be the one on the other side of the lens. I don't know what's going to happen in the months ahead. But this I do know... my job will still pay me less than I need. My car will still need repairs. I will still need a place to live. My dog will still need all the love and care he currently gets from me. And if that's all I'm ever able to manage, I guess it will have to be enough. Because, to my eternal shame, I have never been good at trusting Him.

today is awesome poetry day... 'cause E said so

Here's a poem I stumbled upon by Gabriel Gadfly...


Beautiful Like...

STOP!
Right there.
I want to remember this image
for the rest of my life.
I want to remember the shape of
your thighs clamped tight around mine,
the shine of your tangled hair,
the sheen of the impassioned sweat
on your slender, outstretched arms,
and the gleam of the blade
on that really big knife you're holding.

Just Stop,
because I've got to tell you something:
you're beautiful.
And I don't mean run-of-the-mill
girl-next-door kind of beautiful
You are stunningly, terrifyingly,
shock-and-awe beautiful.
You are beautiful like
bullet tracers over Fallujah are beautiful,
beautiful like the thousand shapes and colors
swimming in your vision
after a too-soon flashbang
in a Baghdad bakery are beautiful.
Beautiful like the grenade at your feet
still has the pin is beautiful,
beautiful like the bullet that kissed your dog tags
and only went halfway through is beautiful,
beautiful like the bullet that kissed your throat
and went all the way through is beautiful.
Beautiful like the bright instruments of a British medic
in a field camp hospital clamping your veins,
and stitching your flesh, and saving your life are beautiful.
Beautiful like three bags of
Typo O negative blood are beautiful.

Stop
Right there.
I want to remember this image for the rest of my life,
like I'll remember the image
of you stepping out of a C-130 transport plane,
and realizing that when they told me
they never leave one behind,
they didn't mean they wouldn't leave a few pieces.
You are beautiful.
You are beautiful
like the edges of the broken pieces
of a celebratory wine bottle,
glittering like razor wire all across
the earthtone tablecloth are beautiful.
You are beautiful like the stares of people in Wal-mart
when the bang of a box sliding off a shelf
puts you screaming on the floor are beautiful.
You are beautiful like nightmares are beautiful.
You are beautiful like
“Honey, Mommy might be a little different when she gets back.”
“That's okay. I'll still love her, Daddy” is beautiful.

I'll still love you, baby.
We'll get you the help you need,
but you need to give me the knife.



It's absolutely beautiful... stunning imagery. I tend to write introspectively; desire, personal fear, reflection, metaphysics, sometimes of war, but again in terms of desire, fear, reflection etc. But Gabriel here, writes viscerally; he's pulled no punches. Got to admire him for that.

If I had to place one of mine next to his; not to contrast or compare my introspection with his clarity, but in addendum to clarity, I'd choose what follows below. We tend to see each moment of our lives as having absolute clarity, we see what we see and interpret as rightly as we know how the meaning of it all. One man sees the knife in his traumatized wife's hand with far more clarity than a man who's never seen the ravages of war-- personally or second-hand --while another man sees from a distance the high cost of war in purely clinical terms; of numbers and lives and flag draped coffins... Taps echoing across a field of white stone.

I've been in the military, but I've never seen war, let alone fired upon another person, enemy or otherwise. So I write introspectively... romantically. If anything war produces could ever be described as 'romantic.'

But if I had to place one of my own next to his? This would be it...


Resurrection

I draw the muslin over my head
Feel my breath mist beneath its weight
Trapped and drawn again inward
Last moment's breath
Called upon once more
Weaker now; bearing life still
        My brother lies near
        No mist beneath the muslin
        No breath revisited
        No life ~ weak or otherwise
        Only the sure knowledge that moments are fleeting

I pull the muslin down and away
Breathe in the cold chill of night
Fresh and unsullied air…
Open my eyes and see the heavens turn
Each breath new
Filled with life ~ strength
        My sister lies near
        Unmoving ‘neath the muslin opaque
        Oblivious of the passing of moments
        Oblivious to the sound of my heart's beating
        And the sure knowledge of the song it sings

Sing Brother!
Sing Sister!
Draw the curtain from your eyes
And let life ~ Fresh and unsullied
Beneath equally pristine skies
Fill your bodies once more
With hope and new breath
Let your wounds draw closed
Your limbs bind with sinew and bone unshattered
And let's walk once more ‘neath the stars of heaven
In the sure knowledge of life everlasting


ELAshley
020306.014802.1


Mr Gadfly understands the visceral human connection, I grasp the metaphysical. He sees the human toll, I see the spiritual. I'm sure he sees the metaphysical as well, but he chooses to rub our fine sensibilities in the hot coppery truth. And I wouldn't dream of faulting him for it. Bravo, Gabriel. Bravo.

something borrowed, something new

I hesitate to post this, but. I may be shy when it comes to the opposite sex, but I'm not all that shy about sharing my thoughts to those who'll listen. And since no one is listening...

I have the melody, and these are the lyrics.

Mary (Go Ahead and Cry)

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Will you marry
Mary will you
Marry your friend
And love to the end?
Mary will you

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh
Will you bury
Mary will you
Bury your loves
With the angels above
Mary will you

Carry your heart
In the bag on your shoulder
Collecting your tears
In every 'I love you' you told her
Don't cry...
Mary don't cry
Though they are gone, you know this isn't goodbye

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Will you love me
Mary will you
Love who I become
In all of Autumn's setting suns
Mary will you

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Will you hold me
Mary will you
Hold me as I lay dying
In my dying breath sighing
Mary will you

Hold in your heart
In the bag on your shoulder
Every prayer on your rosary
The Hail Marys your prayed to her
Don't weep
Oh, Mary you're weeping
They're not gone, they are only sleeping

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Will you marry me
Mary will you
Marry your friend
And love to the end
Mary will you
~For better for worse

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Mary I'm with you
Never will leave you
Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Mary I love you
My whole heart and life breaks for you
Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Mary I'm here, go ahead and cry

(Repeat to End)
Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Go ahead and cry

(Very End)
I'm here, and not going anywhere




ELAshley
031610.090326.6
Revisions
031710.100526.1

It may seem I presume too much, but I don't write for myself. I only imagine the pain I would feel were I wearing different shoes. It is not my voice that sings. But my sorrow for her is real.

my own personal midlife crisis: doomed to solitude

To reiterate. Every thought, image, and response has a musical connection. Some songs resonate more than others, and that is where the "soundtrack of one's life" meme is rooted. But some songs resonate more than others. For me, I can recite that litany of songs which truly, madly, deeply reverberate through my soul, on a single hand.

Pain, or so it seems to me, is the foundation of genuine worldly beauty. Beauty is an expression of defiance against that which would crush us, would we but allow it. There is nothing remarkable about a straight line-- a straight line is unremarkable in a forest of conformity. But curve that line... well then, that's something new altogether. Where pure pleasure is the straight line, pain then is the curve.

Take Celtic music for instance, or the vocal stylizings of groups like Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Cultures which have experienced oppression and suffering sing with a heart that seeks to rise above the pain... whether they realize it or not-- the pain creeps into their musical expression, and however straight-lined their words, their vocals and instruments speak in curves.

And so here I am, long story short, to the point of my own life's soundtrack, and one song from that one hand that has reverberated through my soul for thirty-four years. I've made mention of it here (or elsewhere... I know I've written about this song somewhere), but at the risk of appearing unduly obsessive I return to Yer Blues by the Beatles.

Why bother mentioning it all? Well, I came across a review of the song online and felt compelled to comment upon it.

First the lyrics:

Yes I'm lonely. Wanna die
Yes I'm lonely. Wanna die
If I ain't dead already
Woo, girl you know the reason why.

In the morning. Wanna die
In the evening. Wanna die
If I ain't dead already
Woo, girl you know the reason why.

My mother was of the sky
My father was of the earth
But I am of the universe
And you know what it's worth
I'm lonely. Wanna die
If I ain't dead already
Woo, girl you know the reason why.

The eagle picks my eye
The worm he licks my bones
I feel so suicidal
Just like Dylan's Mr. Jones
Lonely. Wanna die
If I ain't dead already
Woo, girl you know the reason why.

Black cloud crossed my mind
Blue mist round my soul
Feel so suicidal
Even hate my rock and roll
Wanna die. Yeah, wanna die
If I ain't dead already
Woo, girl you know the reason why.

Depressing, right? Suicidal, even? But why? And why does it resonate in my soul? Well, here's one reviewer's thoughts on the song:

For all that chatter about The Beatles predicting the band members' solo work, only two of its Lennon tracks would be of a piece with his Plastic Ono Band, arguably the defining post-Beatles disc. One is the muted, tender "Julia"; the other, the searing, spooky "Yer Blues"...

Following in the grand blues tradition of women doing wrong and leaving a man in pain often simply by leaving him, Lennon seethes in heartbreak. But his introspection (call it his utter self-absorption) turns the misdeed inward, and the song focuses on his reactions rather than whatever wrong she supposedly committed. This is not a revenge story, or an attack on an unfaithful woman. This is instead an attack on the man who, through some or many unspecified flaws, doomed himself to solitude.

—Charles Hohman

And this is the key phrase, for me:

This is instead an attack on the man who, through some or many unspecified flaws, doomed himself to solitude.

This is about what one feels about himself, not what someone else has done to him. And I reckon this speaks as much about my life as it did, perhaps, about his... Lennon's.

I remember a task I set for Mary Angel as her sponsor into Iota Gamma's "Little Sister" program; circa 1983. It was common for the brothers to set an impossible task for their charges, and I, thinking myself clever, asked Mary Angel to bring to me the lyrics to my favorite song, giving her only one clue... "My father was of the earth."

I thought I was clever, but I was outdone by an intellect far cleverer than my own. She called my little sister and asked what my favorite band was. Easy! she was told-- The Beatles. It then became a search for which song held that particular line. Now this was 1983; no PC's worth a flip, no Google, no world wide web to really speak of, so my sister begins to play all my Beatles albums, song by song, until they hit upon a winner.

Mary Angel was NOT pleased by the song I called "my favorite." Not pleased at all. But without going into too much detail-- long story short --I gave her no context so she had no way of knowing why that song, as tragic in tone as it is, was my favorite. And truth be told, I never considered the reason myself till much later.

As a young child I was constantly uprooted and thrust into new situations, new schools, new friends... new bullies who saw in my stuttering reason enough to make my life more and more miserable. I learned very early to simply keep quiet and not draw too much attention to myself.

So here I am years later, 21, maybe 22 years old. I've asked out the moderately attractive Kathleen Tremblay. I've picked her up, and taken her to a party. While there she pretty much dumps me and begins making out with someone else. I leave. Without her. And I go to a place I routinely frequent when I wish to be alone. It's a small but long pier on St. Andrews Bay.

It's dark. Only a sliver of moon in the sparsely clouded night sky. I take out a knife. Put it's tip to the right side of my chest and slash downward. And a second time, but without much enthusiasm. I throw the knife out to sea, stagger back to my car and drive home. I'm covered in blood so I take a shower. Excruciating pain! I bandage myself, and go to bed.

How do you tell your family you did something like that to yourself? I couldn't. I told my father I was attacked on the beach.

There was no trip to the hospital. Just a jar of sulfur to pack the wound to keep it from getting infected. What I got was one big ass scar, and more isolation from people I considered friends. The scar was quite noticeable for many years, but has since faded. The memory however has not, nor do I expect it to.

This was not an attack on the girl who broke my heart but was instead, "an attack on the man [myself] who, through some or many unspecified flaws, doomed himself to solitude." I attacked myself for some unknown, unseen, unfathomed flaws that kept me single, and without friendship or intimacy from girls.

Here's one major distinction between my own experience and that of the song in question. I was not suicidal-- I had absolutely no intention of killing myself. Had that been the case I could have easily pushed the knife straight in. Instead I slightly dimpled the flesh of my chest inward and swiftly sliced down... not in. I did not want to kill myself. What I wanted was to externalize the pain I felt in my heart.

And so this is my fear... my own personal midlife crisis... that I am doomed to solitude; that I will never find love... never share my life with a woman who loves me.

* * *

This song resonates with me. It didn't before that evening. Nor did it resonate for many years after. But today, after years of swimming in the soup of "some or many" of my own "unspecified flaws" it has come to carry a great deal of weight in the soundtrack of my life.

I am 49 years old, and still Solitude Standing. I've waited twenty years for a woman to say "yes" to marriage only to realize at last that she doesn't wish to marry anyone, let alone me.

So I'm moving on. Suicide was never an option... has never crossed my mind-- it's simply not who I am. But I'd be a liar if I said I didn't suffer a modicum of despair over having reached the heliopause of 50 and still single; having wasted the last twenty years on someone who chooses not to love or be loved.

What is left for me to do now? Accept what is and move on. And never give up looking for someone who will love who and what I am in spite of who and what I am not.

There. It's out. Welcome to my midlife crisis.

they live in middletown...

I'm tired, I tell you. Tired.

Even the simple task of buying everything on the list-- and nothing more save pineapple and bananas --gives rise to her bitching.

That's all I need to hear-- Hello. Goodbye. Disconnect. Retreat to here...

I'm tired, I tell you. Tired.


Here's a bit of verse... apropos to the moment.

It's understood
By every single person who'd be elsewhere if they could
So far, so good
And life's not unpleasant in their little neighborhood

And now I find I've been put into a Rush mood. Not for the uplifting lyrics of much of their music, but for Grace Under Pressure, to my mind the darkest of their albums.

Were I a brave man. I'd of pulled the trigger years ago. But I have more faith than I have anguish.

What happens to the dreams we're too afraid to seize hold of?

Dreams flow across the heartland
Feeding on the fire
Dreams transport desires
Drive you when you're down
Dreams transport the ones that need
To get out of town...

...They dream in Middletown

And from Richard Marx...

We used to walk down by the river
She loved to watch the sun go down
We used to walk along the river
And dream our way out of this town

I feel a leaving comin' on.

where E is..

...is where I now am. I can't think of anything better to label it than 'midlife crisis'. There is an anxiousness, a depression, a cacophony of emotions and angst that I can't shake... an emotional malaise that threatens to sweep everything away, pushing inland like a psychic tsunami. I can't believe how depressed I am right now... I just want to cry...

But what would that solve? It wouldn't make me feel any better... the pain would still be there. I would still be tired. I would still be lonely. I would still be unfulfilled...

I would still be unfulfilled


As is my wont I am listening to a song, over and over and over and over again.

Andrew Gold, 1978...

Passing Thing

Slowly sailing leaves
The children of the trees
Evicted by the wind
And can't return again

Young girl by a stream
Has lost her younger dreams
Her childhood will end
And won't return again

'Cause it's only a passing thing
It's only what time will bring
Though we are together thrown
We're all alone
We can't go home

And you only have a heart
To see that only love guide you

I am just a man
Following my heart
Following a flame
That never stays the same

                    ...

'Cause it's only a passing thing
It's only what time will bring
Though we are together thrown
We're all alone
We can't go home

And you only have a heart
To see that only love can guide you

Okay. I will write some now... off the top of my heart. It won't be as good as Andrew, but maybe it will be good enough...

Who Loved Me (And Let Me Go)

Oh how I miss you
How I miss your loving arms
How I miss the thought of you
The very sight of you
Who loved me long ago

Oh how I cherish you
How I cherish the memory of soft skin
Cherish the very thought of you
The very warmth of you
Who loved me then let me go

When all of this is done
When the world is gone away
Our world beneath a dying sun
My heart and soul written in the stars
Forever of you will say
How you broke my heart
Tore my soul apart
Left me to wander
A stone skipping cross
The blacknesses of time

                    ...

Oh how I desire you
Desire your long forgotten kiss
How I desire the memory of you
The very picture of you
Who loved me but let me go

When all of this is done
When the world is gone away
Our world beneath a dying sun
My heart and soul written in the stars
Forever of you will say
How you broke my heart
Tore my soul apart
And left me to wander
A stone skipping cross
The blacknesses of time

Oh how I weep for you
For all of time mourn you
Desire you
Miss you
Cherish you
Sweet Mary Angel
Oh how I love you

ELAshley
111709.064430.6
No matter how bad it is, I will not revise it. Ever

Who is she you ask?

She is the ideal. The kind of woman I will never see or meet again. She is the very image I look for in every woman I meet... and have always been left disappointed.

But it's only a passing thing, right? this 'midlife crisis' of mine?

Tell that to my heart.

e's wEekly brain dump

A lot of talk and a lot of chaotic internal reflection. It's becoming more and more inevitable that I will, in just 5 or 6 months be on my own for the first time in almost twenty years. No I am not getting a divorce-- I've never married. But I am losing a room mate.

I've asked her to marry me numerous times, but she has always dodged the answer. She has said often enough she doesn't want to marry anyone... period. And I'm tired of being single, tired of being celibate, tired of not being able to share who I am with someone who love me enough to share their life with me. I'm tired of being lonely. I'm depressed. And I'm so desperately lonely.

* * *

Due to the end of Daylight Savings Time there was one more hour of Halloween last night.

* * *

I've decided that if I fall in love with anyone, I want someone who's chatty. Someone like Mary Angel; someone who, despite her chattiness, is also willing and ready to listen without interruption; who knows when to let me talk and when to ask questions or encourage or embrace me unconditionally.


And that's enough for this week. I don't think I can bear to continue.

e's wEekly brain dump

It's been an interesting week... really.

• New Internet Sales boss
• My job is changing. Everything's in limbo
• Pursuant to previous: More responsibility. More learning. Potential for more money
• Lunch buddy asked me to join her at the station's tent at the Peanut Festival
• MONSTER headache this weekend... even as I write this
• Epiphany of sorts regarding the world today
  

I learned rather early in the week that my job is changing and I had to make a decision as to whether I wanted to ride the wave or stay on shore. The station wants someone to become their Web Guru... an veritable internet Jedi... and they're asking me. It'll be a lot more work without any initial pay increase-- which is par for the course, but in the long run it'll set me up for a potentially very large return. I am in a very enviable position.

I now have to immerse myself into WorldNow, a video editor/client program I've never gone into more than waist deep. I'm already conversant with Clickability so there's no big deal there, but now I have to add Adobe Flash to the mix, a program I know almost nothing about-- Hey, I've never had to use it! In addition I'll be using Dream Weaver more than I already do... again not a big deal. And I'll be using a lot more HTML (the new Internet Sales manager tells me I won't need CSS at all, that the use of CSS is passe, and on its way out. I thoroughly disagree, but in terms of my new duties [of which I'm still in the dark] I'll not need it. Doesn't mean I'm going to just toss it out the window. I'm going to master CSS if it kills me).

From what I understand, I'll be shooting video and placing it on the station's website. This doesn't impress me as a very big deal except that I've never soloed on a video shoot; my training in that has been deliberately slow. So I expect my training there will intensify.

And just where all the landmarks/mines are, I cannot even hazard a guess. You see, I'm the kind of person that likes to know where everyone stands: what are their duties, to whom do I answer (since technically I'm in two departments), in what situation. I don't like "on the job" surprises. Knowing the lay of the land is the first step toward victory, barring the ability to choose your own ground. And right now, where I marshal my forces... from what position I engage... is not my decision. Someone else is choosing the ground for me. Not an enviable position to be in, I assure you. Over all, however, this is an opportunity that I would be a fool not to take.

I don't like change; Change is unpredictable, no matter how much information one possesses-- something can always go wrong. And yet Change is the only real constant there is outside of God himself.

That has been my life for much of this week-- Flux.

* * *

I shared another enjoyable hour with my lunch buddy on Friday. She is a great conversationalist! I can't even remember all things we talked about, but I do know I was yet again a Chatty Cathy, which is so not like me. I am typically the most reserved person in ANY group or gathering, and yet she is very freeing... not so much in what she does, but rather what she projects. As Luka Bloom sings in Primavera,

You are a beacon in the crowd
You bring lavender to calm"

...and as I typically catalog relationships through music I would assign Primavera to Miss LeNee`.

On another note, she added me to her list of friends on MySpace, and she sent me one of these electronic 'Kisses'; it's some kind of app that allows for flirting or some such, Needless to say, I sent one back, but then realized that might not have been the best thing. I swear I am not trying to get intimate with her. I just can't do that right now. So I'm choosing-- and rightly so, I think --to take it with a grain of salt. Thousands of people blow those kisses around on MySpace, and as I recently wrote, I know the difference between intrigue and infatuation, or in this case, the difference between flirty friendship and an honest to goodness kiss.

A "Kiss" is two pair of lips embracing the soul of one fleeting moment. This was just an electronic image on my computer screen. [got to remember that... really good metaphor]. I sent her a link to a poem I wrote... One Kiss.

In addition to this, she asked me while at lunch if I would sign up and join her the Saturday of the Peanut Festival Parade out at the fairgrounds at the station's tent and keep her company while she smoozes with the public. I'd love to do that, but I'm deliberately delaying any decision. I have my word to consider... the part where I said I could not date because of my current situation. And while I have no illusion that this would be a date, I worry that I may be becoming too attached to a daydream-- she is THAT powerful of a presence to me --and I still have obligations elsewhere. No... there's no ring on my finger, but I'm not free in any case. I've made promises, and I'm not in the business of breaking promises no matter how attractive the light she exudes.

* * *

Eric P. it seems will still be training me on the cameras. And I've already discussed the whys and wherefores. In addition, however, I will be training him to cover for me when I take vacations.

Sidebar: Primavera just ended, and the shuffle has brought about Fleetwood Mac's Sara...
another powerfully beautiful song.

Eric P, by the way, is another person I am choosing as friend. I have been too long without friends.

* * *

The more I look at the world today the more I can't help but see God's hand in the each day's events. It's as though I can see the pen in His hand; the flow of ink following a line of script written long ago, yet played out in real-time before my eyes. How the world can go about building its plans, its own 21st century Tower of Babel is beyond me. All I can say is the world is overwhelmingly ignorant to the truth. Imagine how wonderful it would be to witness the fulfillment of prophecy... and yet billions of people have failed to see the truth that they ARE witnessing the fulfillment of scripture today; that prophecy is in the process of being fulfilled.

Absolutely amazing.

All my troubles and elations this week pale before that one simple truth. Should the world still be tooling along twenty years from now, all the training I'm about to receive may actually be a benefit to me... the friendships I'm building today may actually bear fruit. I may actually find that woman who will put a ring on my finger. I may actually...

Well... Nothing wrong with dreaming, with hoping for changes in my life. But let's not lose sight of what's really important. And depending on what one values most, what's truly important is either held aloft like a crown of laurels, or left behind somewhere in the dust of our travails. For myself, I have visions of a finish line.

In the meantime I'm going to bed with a headache one-inch larger in circumference than my skull, with nothing but water to ease the pain.

Hey! you know me! I haven't had any medications of ANY sort in ages. They are stictly verbotten! Besides, my body does not have a deficiency in Acetaminophen, or Aspirin. Know the cause... know the cure.

So what cause this tremendous headache? I drank something with aspartame early yesterday morning. Now I'm paying for it. Time and lots of Ionized water will take care of it. What? You never get headaches from drink you diet colas? Perhaps that's because you drink them regularly. Think a caffeine headache is bad? Just try coming off Aspartame. No amount of Tylenol or Aspirin will kill that headache. I know all too well.