Follow the Lighted Promenade

I said I can't open my eyes/ I said I'm hot and river blind/ I've lain through the echoing evening/ In dim purgatorial musings... I have been sick for five straight days; I think I've lost hold with reality! I went to the movies last night with Paulie and Sophia and had a good time, but then I went home and coughed until three in the morning. I've averaged about three hours of sleep over the previous five days, which sucks. But there is something profound about teaching through all of this. I've been oddly giddy/ happy for a few weeks now, and this sickness hasn't really tempered that. Am I going to die? I've dreamt visions lately, of the profoundest sort. Everything feels possible, like the ways have opened up before me, and even though I've shook through the last week, I've seen the bigger pictures, and I know that I am where I am supposed to be. Being alone has never felt so good. I just want to get better...whomever has the voodoo doll,

"God is alive. Magic is afoot." - Leonard Cohen I've got the impetus for a story, involving shanties, rivers, madness and storms. Everything feels big right now. I can feel the knotted coils unravelling. I am even thinking of my novel again, "The Lamplighter," which I so cruelly abandoned in lieu of other endeavors. It's waited patiently - easily the best and oddest thing I've written. The world's ebb has become a boundless flow. I'm being lazy - all day! Fin!!!

"Dominated by the need to feel safe, we lose our ability to venture and our world gradually becomes smaller and smaller . . . and so do we." I'm not sure who said that, but it's awesome. I shall venture on, my world continually expanding... I talked with Rhonda last night, the busiest of my friends. We got to discussing the big changes we’ve each made in our lives and how difficult they’ve been (and also how rewarding). What she’s done has taken a lot of strength and a lot of courage and I found it very inspiring, and it got me thinking about the people I hang out with. My friends are not afraid to take huge chances. They’ve realized that seeking only comfort and security, that staying with something just because it’s easy, is spiritually fatal. You have to take huge chances – if you hear the voices and see the visions, you can’t coast through life. I want to move out this summer, and if it were only financial, I’d say that I’m going to for sure. But there are

It will be rain tonight…(Then let it come down!) I feel languid, sluggish and slow-moving. I never sleep well on Sundays. I’m attuned to the weekend’s clock, and 5:51 hits me in the face every Monday morning. But what a cool weekend! Adam is back from San Diego and Chris and Amy are back from Michigan – the writing group has reunited. We all met up at Aladdin Pita Saturday to discuss my story, “A Slow Gin Fizz” and make fun of each other. My story went over very well, which sort of surprised me, seeing as it’s 78 pages of dream fever intensity. I’m glad. I liked writing it. I’ve begun work on my trip account, and that is going well also. The group is sparkling…the stories seem to get better every week (or at least longer). Saturday night I went with Heather and Paul and Katie and Herbie (and a few others) to Dave and Busters in Chicago, where I drank a Slow Gin Fizz (my first cocktail, in honor of the completion of my story – it tasted like a Slow Gin Crap) and ate fried mushr

Something big is gonna happen...

A long dormant voice now speaks of trips half taken. I leave the safety of numbers for the mystery of the trail. I read a quote somewhere which said that anyone who reads a person’s diary gets exactly what they deserve. I find blogs all to be vaguely pretentious – except for mine, which is exceedingly pretentious. These are the words of a man pulling himself up out of a long dark. I heard the spring peepers annual call the other night, and though it is the truest sound of Spring’s beginning, it always makes me sad, probably because I feel like I am the only one in the world who is listening to them, and this makes me feel alone. I still have faith in people, but they insulate themselves, they let me down. I am so driven, I can’t understand people who aren’t. I don’t understand so many things, but I know I’d rather be alone with the nighttime than huddled into bars. These are the words of a man opening his eyes. All my friends are lonely – every single one of them. (Perhaps that’s

Kindness will find you when darkness has fallen ... My, my do I feel so much better after my pilgrimmage! Things are explosive. There is a nice balance between happiness and melancholy. I feel I am standing at the edge of a great mystery, poised on the cusp of a new awareness. Yesterday, I tried (vainly) to articulate what I was feeling to poor Heather, and though it was a relief to speak what had been rattling around in my mind for the better part of two weeks, I don't think I really voiced the heart of the matter. My feelings run DEEP, and there is always a new discovery lurking when I confront them, and it's quite exciting actually - scary, often painful, but exciting. Writing this trip account will be wonderful, for I will use the medium to order these thoughts. My story has reached 73 pages. I hope to finish it tonight, after yoga. Snake Day Countdown: 20 days!

I am back, typing at Heather's...this is the fist time I've talked with anyone that I know in nearly ten days, and though it feels good to be back, I'm sad that the trip is over. It was so beautiful, so spiritual...I've certainly been changed by Louisiana, which I suppose was the whole reason for going. I feel down, but, as Gibran said, who can separate himself from his sorrow or solitude without pain in his heart?