July 22, 1999
I have this obsession with journeys. I'm not sure if it means anything, or if I'm just a little crazy that way. When I read people's work, or look at their art, I always look for that recurring theme. It's always there. . . sometimes subtle, sometimes obvious. I went to this art show once and this guy there carved Spoons. That's it! Just Spoons. No forks or knives or bowls or whatever. I found it fascinating. It makes me wonder how other people's brains work. I mean, did he set out to just carve spoons, was it intentional, or was that really all that interested him? Just some ponderings....
So, back to my original statement about journeys. I think that maybe I'm never going to settle down. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be for me. Sometimes, I get so close, but something always seem to happen. I don't know. When I was younger I used to think I didn't want to settle down, as I get older, it's all I want. Ugh, I guess I'm getting old.
I'm losing all of my idealistic principles about not "selling out" and having kids and yadda yadda. I don't know, I still think my ideas are good in theory, I just think someone else should fight the system and be all outstanding. I for one, am too tired.
and with that I'm going to end this rambling. My computer is being tempremental today, and I'm in no mood to deal with it.
Take care, Zal
Here's something I found hiding in a lost and forgotten folder, so I'll go ahead and post it . . .
We can not undo our past. We cannot look back and ponder the would haves or the should haves. We can only look back at the was and the is and reflect at how it changed us.
I look back on you - with that mixed sense of love and fear and pain. Wanting those brief moments of peace that we shared. Wanting to know you for more than who you were more than who I am , Wanting the closeness that even sex cannot give us.. Wanting to crawl into you through your eyes .... swim through your blood and emerge like a pimple through your pores.
I miss you. I'm rambling - I'm late for an appointment and I don' t care. I am so tired. You have no trust in me. You see me and your skin crawls with a combination of love and hate and fear and anger and calm. I know because I feel it. I feel you. That has been our problem and we are both aware of it. That we know too much, feel too deeply cry too often, sleep not enough and wish we could have that fleeting peacefulness forever - but know that it is an abstract thing - that it does not exist within the confines of reality - but only in the moments of our absolute quietness. And even then it is more o a dream - something we remember after the fact - not reality.
