My vacation has been good in some ways and not so in others. It has been somewhat anticlimactic as I search for things to do, at least things that I want to do that fit into the image one gives themselves as they wait in anticipation of those coming days. Akin to the Saturday Night Swindle it is. This time off has been lovely yet lonely, exciting yet fruitless, and unadorned by the companionship THAT I SEEK while I purposely avoid those that offer themselves to me. I went down to the pickup station and, again, lived the lines that Joni sings about in that particular tune. I found myself in an area that some would deem unsavory and, in truth, it is so. Dangerous, dark, and full of individuals looking for their own way. Avoiding the places full of cardboard cutouts (pretty gay men in tight clothing, poppers, one-upmanship, stereotypical homosexuals with emptiness where genuine emotion and thought should be), I searched for and found the den of drug dealing, prostitution, and the homeless. Why? Can't explain it though have surmised it is the inner me looking for the thrills that are so absent in this life that I live. Find so many of my thoughts and actions traveling along inside my head and during my life in tune and in unison with what Joni has sang to me. Not necessarily following her blindly but she has the ability to know and to put down the intricacies inside of our heads and our souls, before they even happen. Maybe the commonality of us all yet I don't think so since so many just do not get it. It is not easy to admit to oneself that they want to go to the dark side of their inner being. Not as eloquent as our dear friend but the raw part of this being wants to be just that, throwing away goodie pretention but is constrained by religious dogma, well-smellt baskets, and the infernal, eternal right thing to do. "a park, a bridge, a tree, a river." Been there, done that, countless and eternally have done that. Stuck to this place and this life by familial obligation, fear, and uncertainty; as the years pass, the wrinkles grow, and my spirit slowly dies away. Got to find the way out of this bottle that I am in, somehow. The end result of it all is that it is down to you and down to me.
mack
