The Coals Went So Wild As They Swallowed The Rest.

This evening sped by in a clumsy dance of door banging, plates crashing and screached Spanish insults. I stumbled my way through it, pretending it was happening to someone else. I thought about letters written and letters not written. I had intended to write back to someone but I woke up too late. I had so many dreams spinning about in my skull and wasn't finished with any one of them so I kept going back to sleep, over and over again. The next thing I knew it was three o'clock and I barely had time to write them down before having to jump up and leave.

It's hard to write about a day during which nothing really happened. I am currently digging through the scattered remnants of a tired mind, trying to find a solid thought to pull across the page. I am having difficulty discerning what should be said and what should be left to silence.

I see people as they pass me. They are the vague representations of what I spend everyday trying to attain in words. They are very quickly doing all the things it takes them pages and pages, hours and hours to do when I write them down in words. Often, I think of people in words, in the brief but bright recognization that always takes place somewhere in our stories. I think of that moment when they might realize who they are and react accordingly. I would like to write myself in fiction one day but I believe that takes far more practice than my few years have had.

A friend recently asked, "Why must everything be born out of so much pain?" And I feel like somewhere, deep down in the darkness of my belly, I know the answer. But, just now I can't find it. Maybe tomorrow.

I do know that we all struggle to find the things that pull us out of the pain of knowing that your life is limited. I suppose the fact of the infinite possibilities capable of unfolding is just as limiting though. But, it depends on who you are. There are those of us who skip through life, unknowing and not wanting to know, because they are afraid that knowing will cause them heartache. I prefer to know and to try to deal with the pain that living sometimes causes. Part of what is so beautiful about humanity is the depth of people's ability to feel emotions. I want to stand out on the deck of a boat, the wind blowing through my hair, the fish jumping up around me. I want to stand on the beach and look out onto the sea and think of all the places, perhaps, where a young man could be. I want to jump back out on the rooftops, look out over the town. Think about the strange things circulating 'round. It ain't easy.