"the boatman, he is gone, the loons have flown for cover.."
Nick Cave..he always brings me into myself. Perhaps I relate too much. I am found at this moment listening to the single
girl in the
apartment upstairs suffering from insomnia as I am. Or maybe she's just a
nightowl. That's the thing about living in
New York..you're so close to your
neighbors, you know their routines; their random bumpings in the
middle of the
night that just reek of fellow eccentricity. I wonder what she's doing right now.
"What's he building in there?" Tom Waits
I hear the mumurings of her
tv..is it that loud to drown out her thoughts of loneliness? A
companion of
circuitry? A
lover of
gamma rays beaming into her glazed
eyes and the
peaks and
valleys of
sine waves caressing her
sun shy skin?
I wonder..
Another day on the island of Long finds me one month exactly since my
birthday,
June 26th. I was supposed to be in
Baltimore with some now very quiet members of
E2, celebrating the day we were all unleashed on this unsuspecting planet..but I was not
summoned. I
believed the
reasons given, believed the utterances from
lips I
trusted,
missed, and
abused. I never made any
promises, because
I didn't want to let you down baby. You never saw that.
One month. One months time to spend by myself in a land of strangers. One month to assimilate 2 years of
burning in
Florida like a dark star falling into itself.
I have found my
answers where I
forgot to
look.
In here.