Monday, May 13, 2013


I pour hot water over the two bags in the pot: Stash Fusion Green & White Tea, amended with just a hint of brown sugar. There are four small cups in the box but I only need one. This is the truth.

Liz Phair's "Go West" is streaming from the cloud. I've always liked Liz's art, even when she went through that godawful Liz Phair phase and tried to sound like Avril Lavigne. Every artist wants to be adored, especially when the Important People think you're a badass but the masses don't seem to understand or appreciate a fucking thing you're trying to say. That's when it becomes deadly easy to overreach and try to please everyone. That's when it's easy to lose your way.

Somewhere along the way I lost my way.

The past is a very big place and it's easy to get caught up in it. You can go crazy, living a life of memories. To quote the poet / philosopher Neil Young: lately I've found myself losing my mind, knowing how badly I need her.

But I wasn't ready for her kind. I refused to believe and I flailed, reached, overreached. Tried to make sense of the nonsensical and instead stumbled around a Funhouse of Madness, where bells clanged and I set myself on fire. This is the truth.

Once more I grab fast to the Prophet Young for guidance:
It's hard enough losing
Without the confusion
of knowing I tried.
But you've made your mind up
That I'll be alone
now there's nothing to hide.
Staggering out of the hiding place — out of the fog — I feel naked, thin, husked-out and shaky. I am armed with nothing but one thought: I know I tried. This is the truth.

I will keep moving forward, but this time I must do it for no one else. History has taught me and I am an apt pupil. I sought acceptance, tried to please the muse and the masses, and wound up humiliated, mostly through my own doing. There was a peculiar sharpness to the knife when I realized everyone thought I was making a fool of myself.

I take another sip of tea, admire the teapot and cup. I set out a second cup and fill it. I'm not trying to trick myself; no one else will be sipping with me. I'm pouring tea for a ghost. For the first time in years I will try to make myself write without a muse to inspire me. This is the truth.

Liz Phair's monotone voice comes out of the cloud:
And it feels like I've got something to prove,
But in some ways it's just something to do.

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