Saturday, January 13, 2007–3 a.m.
As one of his most ardent fans, I’m listening to Sting’s new ‘Songs from the Labyrinth’ CD, which is the impetus for this post at such an ungodly hour.
I haven’t written in a while because, frankly, one has just enough time to brush their finger across the tip of their nose in this city, let alone pick it. Although, I did see a toddler managing the later with great focus as he held his mum’s hand along the subway platform the other day.
Things are heating up all around me as change gusts about my front door, leaving heaps of dried, colored leaves for me to rake up and bag — memories already generating about the experiences I’m having now.
Indeed, changing jobs is nerve wracking, especially when you enjoy the company of your colleagues. At last, you have to pick up your sad ars and cut your losses in the end if you want to go anywhere in this life.
Ah! yes, that brings me to the subject that has been bubbling up in my mind lately — when you say goodbye to acquaintances in this life, especially in a big city or to set out for somewhere far, you get the sense that they may be dying to you. You may never see them again, and if you do, will time and space play a number on your circumstances leaving you all but strangers? Likely so.
And for someone like me, this is a sad, sad thing deserved of a nice red wine and a good cry. Most people leave an imprint on my heart. And as they fade into the past, something in my nature touches that imprint and procures only the good things … even if the subjects were cruel. It’s a strange habit and it baffles the most rational of friends and likely annoys the ghosts of my Foes.
This morning, I only have one foe, that I know.
I wouldn’t choose such a state.
It is put upon me like some ancient contract.
My friends are many.
And my love is great.
Rest your tense heart foe and leave the world to turn, won’t you?