i reinvent myself
��������� �����just an urge to write. not much in any way or order to say. i should reinvent for a moment ...a) good morning! i've just woken up, freshly showered, and now i'm staring out the window, watching the sun continue to rise. it's finally spring, and i'm listening to some dave brubeck. i actually am entering here for the final time. real men don't need journals or diaries or what-have-you. even though i'm sure hemingway did ... no matter. i'm in short sleeves. it feels very good to be in short sleeves. there is a distinct olfactory presence here. i feel clean for the first time in a while. my physicality is finally where i want it. i am comfortable with myself. it is sunny, there are no clouds, i am ready to go the beach and flop down in the waves. mark and rachel and i are going. jason and casey are coming too. it's amazing how today everything was suddenly better. everything at an accord, all of us so secure with ourselves! and so, with that angst concluded, i'm going to go find a soul-mate and live happily ever after in a thunderstorm. the end.
b) there's no extremes today. just a simplicity that i miss. that i never really had. but now i do. and it's amazing, to find that special someone. that cliche, trite "speshul sumwon" who you share books with, tea with, chai with, pick flowers for, give select pieces of driftwood to. my life centres around the beach, the weather, nature ... it's only right that i am in love with a girl who smells like springtime ... oh john fowles. "when you love me it's as though God forgave me for being the mess that i am" - the magus. and it reminds me of her, her, her ...
c) i'm being published. my work as an author will go down in printed history - perhaps only a footnote - but now every time i go into borders i should happen to run my fingers over the books, past greely and gibson and stop just before harris or hemingway to encounter my own name ... and linger for a minute, half-smiling, and then rush onwards!
d) some deja vu just now. synapses firing randomly, a neuron mistakenly entering a memory bloc, a misfire. a misfire. i remember this so very keenly, these moments of dreamed-up completion brought on by the delusion of springtime, of hormones, of intercepting some sort of geniality. of being comfortable with myself, with my masculinity, with everything that i am will be and are, forever and ever amen.
e) it begins to rain. the sun is blotted out for the moment and it looks rather like when you set a coffee-mug down on a napkin and it leaves that sullen brown ring ... it's raining, cold, and the wind is fierce. the landscape outside mirrors the landscape inside of my heart. a woman stands in a corner and is sewing needlepoint. she proclaims that she is standing on priam's walls watching troy burn from the inside out and then turns to me and asks ... what's that smell? it's me, i reply sadly. i am rotting from the inside out.
f) and suddenly the world is blooming, is sodden with the drench of happiness and contentment .. moment by moment, as though i am an empty glass upon being born, and each time i experience that .. a drop in the glass. when i am dead, if my glass is full - i will ascend to some sort of heaven .. and it won't matter, because i will have attained that heaven on earth ...
g) and the watermelons in the garden continue to grow - so near to bursting!