Sticky Eyelids

No, not like that.

Several hours past bedtime, you may encounter a weird calm translated between your body and mind. Aside from fuzzy dry-eye I mean, if you're creative, if your pulled for reasons beyond your understanding, and if you're determined to believe that the fantasy of destiny is more than just a childhood wish. I get this way when I perform manual labor, or finally find the rhythm I was looking for in a school-paper, poem, stretch of fiction I was wrapping myself around all day while doing a million daily things. Usually I go to sleep before giving it a chance. I've been doing that for several years; betraying myself.

For all I know I may be writing now not to seem like the desperate schmuck throwing my guts to the wall to see what sticks (I entered info on Mike's [Michael Roderick's] tribe list with little to show for years of interest in production-value story-telling). I haven't been back to volition in a while, I miss it always though.

A friend of mind called today. We caught up. He's unemployed too, but he's bored for being in between semesters and taking Jujitsu for the last two months around 5 nights a week. I gotta admit, I'm jealous of his compulsion. I'm full of it . . . this inertia. My last semester was two semesters ago when my skull folded in like a wad of play-dough between a full-time job, my first film production class at Brooklyn college and business marketing at Phoenix U. There was a lot of resistance, the F.U. kind then. I'm recalcitrant. I think since the 4th grade.

I can't explain the downward spiral, it was subtle but my balls are somewhere out there now, rattling in the subconscious undercurrent of everything I love and hate about this world, having a great time without me and when I think about reclaiming them, it seems it'll be for a price paid by more than a few loved ones. That kind of change is spooky when everyone thought you were part of the furniture. Roland Deschain was given a similar prophesy on his own choices/sacrifices. I've been hearing songs all day easing the reality in past all the fear.

I'm 27, I've got to do something. I've got to get back to me. I've got to write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write write