Tuesday, July 31, 2007


Tough Guys Don’t Dance


It’s been awhile since I have sat down to plug away at the topical. The burden has been, that labyrinth, did not dispose of my time. But alas; I return fresh from visiting the quiet and remote north east.

I return triumphant but also mortal; being said that we must all remember that no matter how our joys transcend us; the real world waits.

I would like to back track a bit. Since the end of May I have been visiting or visited by friends and family almost routinely every two weeks. In this span I have turned to my life and reflected to who I once was and who I am now.

I vacillate between astonishment and satisfaction. I can still track down a dark mood… it seems to last not so long.

As well; some old friends have come and some have gone. I have some sadness and I often think that I if I choose to, could make up that lost ground but at this point I think that… it’s not for me to do…at least not now.

Twenty years has come and gone and it is a milestone. Many old friends had gathered over the weekend, and I hope found pleasure in their company. If - any had come to think about, what I was doing? That same weekend: I was standing in Norman Mailer’s living room.

I have several home repairs to tend to and I don’t expect to add much more on this blog until the summer ends. Then at that point; we might begin to take more turns at topics of the day.

Yet ~ I have discovered that I enjoy most of my life. That working for a living sucks. That somewhere somehow, I become seriously derailed in my goals… sometimes by myself, sometimes by family and then sometimes by friends. I have decided that the element in my life that allows for that needs to cease and desist.

I want to change my life… I want to return to my dreams. I ask; who will join me? Who will abandon me?

From: Tough Guys Don’t Dance by Norman Mailer

Over these twenty-four days, the Lounge at The Widow’s Walk had become my castle keep. I would sit by the window, study the fire, and watch the changes in the tide, feeling after four bourbons, ten cigarettes, and a dozen crackers with cheese (my dinner!) that I was, at least, a wounded lord living by the sea.

… You’ll know where to find me…

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