"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.