Been so lonely and I don't know why. I got back from Shades State Park, where I went backpacking with Jeremy and felt just wonderful. That's my element. That's his too. I got back and fell apart, the end of trip lethargy coupled with missing Sarah and the sun-slanted Sunday. The volume in my head is turned up all the way and I have some intense stuff rolling around in there. Hope my metacognition produces something recongnizable, digestible, so all this pain is worth it. I love it. Would have it no other way, but I wish there were an easier way to create. I wouldn't have to call Sarah in the middle of the night and spill myself everytime I got a story. I just missed her last night. I left myself in the newgreen woods of central Indiana and brought back someone who jumps at shadows. My nerves were shot. I feel marginally better today, the shadows have smaller fangs and my nerves aren't quite so taught.
What a great trip tho. The spirits flitted just on the edge of perception and it looked like I was wading through coloured gauze when the lights went out. The small snap of the warming fire, a diminuative spark in the great wash of night, the shrill, banshee howling of distant coyotes, the world just gets quiet, a quiet that we don't know as we blunder through our Wal-Mart existence. I feel better for having gone, but it was, as always, a tough adjustment back. But I made it and feel more or less together.
Liz has a new journal and quoted a Neil Young lyric that I wasn't familiar with (I know, gasp!) "Gonna take a long, long time/ But the stain will fade away/ Running from the daily grind/ He was, he was a friend of mine." I'm still touched enough by whatever touched me over the weekend that I almost cried at that. I'm so emotional somtimes, but that's just a great lyric.
And I'm glad I'm emotional. Writing last night was like crying, which I needed after I broke myself all the way down to Sarah over the phone. I cried 1,000 words.
And then I went to bed.
What a great trip tho. The spirits flitted just on the edge of perception and it looked like I was wading through coloured gauze when the lights went out. The small snap of the warming fire, a diminuative spark in the great wash of night, the shrill, banshee howling of distant coyotes, the world just gets quiet, a quiet that we don't know as we blunder through our Wal-Mart existence. I feel better for having gone, but it was, as always, a tough adjustment back. But I made it and feel more or less together.
Liz has a new journal and quoted a Neil Young lyric that I wasn't familiar with (I know, gasp!) "Gonna take a long, long time/ But the stain will fade away/ Running from the daily grind/ He was, he was a friend of mine." I'm still touched enough by whatever touched me over the weekend that I almost cried at that. I'm so emotional somtimes, but that's just a great lyric.
And I'm glad I'm emotional. Writing last night was like crying, which I needed after I broke myself all the way down to Sarah over the phone. I cried 1,000 words.
And then I went to bed.
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