Saturday, December 14, 2013

THE REMAINS OF THE GRAY


Less than three weeks before the Odd Year becomes history. An annus mirabilis, if only for the horribilis. Wonders never ceased; just when I thought things might right themselves, another crash proved me wrong. The symmetry was powerful, astonishing. Even a fool could admire it.

The Odd Year lived up to its billing: profound things have always happened to me in odd-numbered years, and this one did not disappoint. Time and distance began dulling the sharp edges of memory, started turning lies into a new reality. This landscape has none of the vivid hues of Dreamland, but that's alright. Every now and then there's even a ray of light, just enough to show me the contours of the terrain. There isn't much color but it looks safe, the sort of place where a guy could lie down and ... rest. Maybe relax, recharge a little. But that would require plugging in, and I'm too drained to find an outlet.

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