Like Goldie Locks, Only the Baltimore Version

I recently compared a very serious journalist and friend to Little Red Riding Hood;
It's only fair that I become an unflattering Grimm legend too

I will be like Goldie Locks

I will be uncomfortable.

I will not be able to sleep in strange beds.

And one day, it will be JUUUUUUUUUUST RIGHT.

And that time is now.

 I will eat your food and sleep in your bed and we'll be friends forever and ever amen.

That's it for now.

Good Love Is Hard & Superlatives are Under-Utilized

We forget there is still work after everything works out just fine, do we not?

The trouble is finding and manipulating what in the myriad of toils is WORTH it.

What is worth my pain in neck?

What is worth walking through the pain?

Mostly, I chose while torturing myself with the pondering, something new.

Always new. Always better. The *end all be all* of great loves always ends in catastrophe.

And when good love is not magic and hot and full of curious climax & crescendo, do we not find ourselves at a desert mesa with no horizon ;

feeling something like I imagine that man felt in the movie 127 hours.

It's not coyote ugly, honey, when you gnaw your own arm off to get away from that face;

It's more like, "my work is done here."

There are some goodbyes in my future.

There was this pitiful moment when I met with a friend (who shares the same name as me) at the very end of a trip home and she point blank told me that she was avoiding me because our first long term goodbye was so difficult that she didn't even want to see me. Saying farewell again would just bring it all back. The pain.

When I left my home, it was a 'leave them wanting more' scene. It was dramatic. It was energetic. I left when all the molecules were racing around each other in the heat. The ocean wind was carrying all of my friends to loftier ideas about life and situations.

Meanwhile, passion and romance were like bad re-runs of COPS episodes. We'd watch them over and over. The romance was like a throw-yourself-down-in-the-street and whine ' PLEASE DON'T GO! " There was dignity in living so balls-out and HEARTS out.

How can that be captured?

I was online meeting people months ago and I came across a friend who has shown me some magic. There still is that type of kinetic stuff that doesn't make you get married; but it makes you wade through quick sand and float for hours down a river with a panama-jack hat on and swearing on the Holy Ghost that butterflies landed on my head of all varying colors; and not being sure where I would sleep that night; but not wanting it particularly to be at home.

Some of them were white. Some were black with electric irridescent blue, and it reminded me of the courtyard at my old studio apartment when those butterflies would either hatch or stop for something along their migration. Good god, there were at least fifty, maybe a hundred and they came every year.

And every year I would forget that they existed until I saw them again. Amnesia.

Jeremy, I feel exactly that, and I confess, I am perhaps needing you to be my neighbor again. And we can nickname our lovers again. We can nickname our friends. We will be famous for having known each other. That is a fact.

And how I would love to introduce you to my new friends, whom I already love. And I wish I had you in my pocket because you make a pocket of enthusiasm in my deep deepest soul.

You are the hungry within the hungriest artist.

I spoke your name; and it was to a friend who shares the same name as you. I spoke as if you were there. And it was confusing for a moment for both he and I. And I used your last name to identify you because I guess your mom married some guy and took his name, so I used that name instead of whatever Myan Alien last name there is that you have in the whatever in between spaces of metaphysics and dreams has not tied you down with, but clips at the back of your heels. Not that names define anyone. Our nicknames are genius. And you are my brother. The other brother. Reverend Doctor Barr that you are.

I summoned you because I am taking you back on the roller coaster with me. A water slide that shoots you into space skidding right into that black matter on the edge of expansion.

See you there. ( Four letter words here to rejoice instead of denounce because I'm in Baltimore and it actually is kind of like the Wire, even though I resent the fact. )

Wow, That's So Cryptic,

Even I think it sounds psychotic

zombie line dance

Wishful thinking all weekend
Cherry Blossoms
21 Jumpstreet
There is no dancing except at the redneck redline party