I'll slouch forward for a few more days and see. Of course my daredevil friends want me to try to jump the canyon, to take the chance. It is good entertainment. They want to watch. Why do I have such friends? Do they want me to live more or die quick? Oh well, it is a philosophy, of course. You must have one to be a member of the living and not just one of the walking numb.
Life runs in cycles, and mine seems to have run a certain course. The madness is over, I think, and now there will be the long, quiet days and nights again. At least as far as love and sex and romance are concerned. The lines are suddenly silent as if I hadn't paid the bill. And perhaps I haven't. The bill always comes. What matters is getting your money's worth. You always pay, but if you have lived well and with a great awareness. . . well, that's what old Hem said, anyway. But we all go bankrupt at some point. The trick is to try for a little spiritual or moral reserve. And of course, always a sense of humor.
I'm beginning to think that the cycle is psychological anyway. You can only stand so much stimulation before you crash, so the mind finds ways to slow you down. Perhaps it is a not-so-subtle change of behavior, something that moves you toward survival. "Slow down, Jackson," it says, "you're about to go over the hill." It might be comforting, at least, to think that it is our own volition and not the positioning of the stars and moon.
Today's picture is all of that--love, desire, physical stimulation, psychological struggle. . . the stars. . . the moon. What we wouldn't give to make this picture move, to wiggle and to writhe, all of nature desiring to strip her of both cloth and reason.
Why aren't book companies buying my work for jacket covers? Perhaps they are not reading the blog, though, as difficult as that is to fathom.
And so I'll beat on a bit further upstream against the current of timeless time. Or something. Whatever.
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