Life is always changing. We’re always changing. That’s one reason why I roll all of my eyes when politicians say ‘We need a change.’ Wait ten minutes. Under that premise, a cloud could run for Congress: ‘Stratocumulus 2012! Change you can hope for.”
So life always changes and occasionally there are spikes in the interest rates, so to speak and right now, my personal economy is a great time to invest cause rates are through the roof. I am looking for a job and actually have been trying to do so whereas in the past I have been half hearted in looking for day work. I am at a crossing point. I will try to articulate this the best that I can but I feel the dead parts of my life are being destroyed, gobbled up by something that is demanding my attention and it seems to come down to moving beyond survival. There’s what I call a magic roving wave that at some point, I feel I must turn into but must be done whole heartedly, with every fiber of faith, so that’s it’s honest; you can’t fake an ID to get into this joint. I can viscerally feel a unity as I move from one life to another and it comes paradoxically with great effort but without force and it is cycles, like I imagine a space explorer falling slowly through the atmosphere of Saturn or some other more hospitable planet but the rate of descent is so slow it seems nothing is happening until you get a glimpse of clarity and then another glimpse and then the regular old nine to five fog. And there comes a point where the hesitation melts away and there’s what I call the great jellybean mouth of awareness and you have to dive in, unfettered. I always believe that we can shit on ourselves better than anyone else can do the job and in any situation, there are always glimpses of clarity where you know what’s right for yourself and wrong. But you have to be looking and then you have be ready.
I imagine I will get a job but it sounds like a passing whirlwind made of moody crickets on its way somewhere else. I’m catching the back end. Something in me pushes and pursues for something better and I suppose death is about the only thing that would slow me down for a bit.
I am hurtling towards the end of Point of Venus, my novel, and estimates two more weeks. I have been writing a great lot over the last couple of weeks. I wish to honor Lona Margolis and the supernatural mystical fashionable sewn path she is taking. When the novel is done, I most certainly am going to dinner somewhere special.
I want to act. I have the urge to do Shakespeare and do my own material. The gods are scratching at the inside of my solar plexus to step it up, lover. OK.
