Blog of my Blog

Vincent — Tue, 03 Jan 2006 21:55:17 GMT

January 1, 2005 New Years is so much fun. Three words: sledding into traffic. I have SKINNED ELBOWS. I am so glad I went to a icy hill. Good NeW YEAR! YEAH!!!!! December 4th, 2004 John Ashberry's style is what my mixed up mind would conjure if it were lucid: "Have I awakened? Or is this sleep again? Another form of sleep? There is no profile in the massed days ahead. They are as impersonal as mountains whose tops are hidden in cloud." After that my mind falls asleep again, reading him. "Ever thought about the moon, how well it fits what it has to light?" Maybe I'm not fitting into John Ashberry's track, but I feel I'm missing my own track. Used to be more sure of myself. Didn't know not to be. Now I have no idea why I'm here, what I should be doing. When a man thinketh on anything whatsoever, his next thought after, is not altogether so casual as it seems to be.--Thomas Hobbes November 18th, 2004 Journal entry from 1987: "I am watching a sunset out at Morgan Lake. Ow! It is so bright. The sky is liquid saffron, the sun a great big sparkler. It is bigger than anything else in the world...." "Jung says we should live as oak trees. Only the deep, unknown core of ourselves knows what kind of person we want to be. Our enterprises, plans, coercive disciplines dampen our sensitivity to our true self. 'Only grow a little to the left, to the right, as you feel you can.'" I feel like I'm underwater. Tonight I drive to Ontario, sleep in the office, finding food and maps to my next destination SATURN RETURN I am not a soul that is lost I just have no sense of timing. I can do neither bad nor good, nor offer meaningful sacrifice. I track over the forest without vision, I have no sense of order, I cannot hold where the sky falls off, nor will orange light and green shadows burst from east to west, shew me the place where I once lay, with my ancient, lost love. November 14th, 2004 Here's a dream, from a letter I wrote to Victoria on 4/19/02 4:16 PM: I'm in a classroom as a little boy, doing drills but losing my attention every time like I used to. I'm talking with the girls. The teacher is unmotivated and gives us free time. I go up to the aquarium and wave my arms at the fish. The goldfish has double fins on either side like a mustache at the lip and waves them back in unison, back ones going back, front ones going front. Some aliens invade. They take over the classroom but it isn't so bad. I make friends with the aliens. At recess we all escape to the swamp. There I try to escape all the other kids by diving. I can breath underwater. I make friends with a big goldfish who lives in a swank castle. We look at each other through her little porthole window. My friends find me and they want to go in and eat her. They are trying to break in. I think I can forstall them by breaking in first and making introductions, but this scares her. I end up embracing her and making sloppy fish lip kisses. November 7, 2004 My life has improved since I discovered Circle of Souls Pagan Radio (www.circleofsouls.net) November 3, 2004 Well its not like I didn't see it coming. There's nothing to take the edge off a bad election hangover like a fresh copy of the Portland Mercury. November 1, 2004 I drove to a three-day druidic ritual on Friday. It was an ADF (Ar nDraiocht Fein) public liturgy designed to as thorough and complete a Samhain ritual as possible with 15 pages of scripted rites. Five Dedicants made vows, and all the rites were performed with respect. Guiness ale, a little oil, and many tears (and kleenex) were sacrificed to Morgan and Cerrunnos. Many thanks to the host grove for hospitality. December, 2001 Below is my last journal entry, written just before my father died on January 6, 2002. Since then I moved back to Eastern Oregon and crossed a hard-to-define boundary I've never been able to return from. Its not that I have a life of responsibility and adulthood, necessarily. I don't. What I have is a sense of lacking that, and a lack of former freedom from the cares of life. So I quote this last entry as a touchstone to something I can't quite ever go back to. I've picked up what was to be my last paycheck, because I would quite my job of five years and return to the family business: 'I've picked up up my paycheck and wonderin' how I'm feelin'--I read my journal entries for the last few days and they seem out-of-date, self-preoccupied and masculinized--too prosciptive and unemotional, I mean. They offer little reminder of how I feel these days. I feel... reenergized (not sore but like all my muscles from my stomach down are ringing). I want to go clothes-hunting, put on lipstick and go dancing. It must be some siren-gathering energy, not the song but the energy to fix one's position and just radiate and draw in... just be... gather... Yes I must gather my wits. I am feeling a little amorphous and euphoric. Feeling too good, that can't be right. Got all these tunes running in my head from Lincoln Park, a smile on my face. Oh. Surely this is a phase. What about my frivolity and lack of ambition. I just want rapture, to worship the face of the beloved and be filled with radiance... its a nice corner of the world for now.'

where is my blog?

Vincent — Mon, 26 Dec 2005 23:33:15 GMT

My blog is at www.labyrinthitis.net click on about the editor link.

My Blog

Blog of my Blog

where is my blog?