Monday, January 22, 2007


Strange how small, microscopic specks consume so much. They ravage all joy available and leave behind frustration and worry like dung from a wild animal. As we starve for happiness, I fear we will become cannibals, turning on eachother. I look to the sky for something good to happen; for provisions on a parachute but it seems as if that plane has passed us by.

1 comment:

bethplusjoe said...

This deserves comment, though I doubt I'll find the words. I'm not a blog reader, but your writings draw me back from time to time. These kinds of things give you a sense of intimacy, which of course is an illusion. I realize this is a "virtual" glimpse of someone's inner thoughts. But all the same I was moved reading this tonight. I was checking out your web site to see what might be new in your career, and I found myself drawn into your personal writings, going backward trying to piece together the narrative. Even in the midst of the most heartbreaking posts, though, I marvel at your writing. I want to say how beautiful your words are. But it seems a slap in the face. Well, they are beautiful, ravishingly so. Apart from your ability to paint, you obviously have a poetic sensibility. You can express things in ways that helps others when they can't find the words. I wish I had the words to soothe your pain, or even more the means to quell the hunger that can eat at people physically, emotionally, and spiritually. "Keep looking to the sky" is all I can think to say at the moment. Maybe you'll miss the planes, but the birds may offer a poetry all their own.