Coming Soon

I am alone now, without distraction.  Even with the disappointment of the missed trip to Japan, I succored myself with the thought that I would be able to get some creative things going, would be able to concentrate and work.  I made plans, offers, schemes.  But the weather here would cripple a Life Coach, would make a Popular Psychologist weep.  It rains relentlessly, my world weighed down by leaden skies, unhappy colors, and a twist of fate.  A car accident and a meeting undone.  

Sushi on a veranda in the usual place.  Rain dissolves a crowd.  Empty streets.  Damp bones.  The rain is wetter here.  It is true.  I dine with frustrated desire and a notebook as companions.  I am bad company.  The sake warms me far too much.  I decide to call on the whiskey, a long forsaken friend.  

Desire undoes my monkish zen.  No contentment.  No happy surprises, no messages.  Only the rain, the quick gusts of wind driving it against the window panes.  Darkness falls.  

I wake on the couch and go to bed far too early, sleeping with whiskey, embracing zephyrs.  I wake in the dark, hours from light.  It is still there.  The rain.  

I want to tell you stories, give you art.  And all I have is this, the yawp of mundane demons, monsters of usualness.  I will tell you of it when I can, tell you the story of how I became The Human Compromise.