Two way monologue

It's too hard for me to build castles out of Midwestern ideals. It's a struggle to cultivate grass towers and break glass ceilings. I've seen the future and the past. Oh brother, it's such a gas. Black and singed and ruddy, or maybe washed clean like a ruby in the middle of a field at the end of a coastal spring. I don't trust the magazines as far as I can cut them up and make paper beads.

I could have guessed that would happen, but still it's a little disappointing. But don't paint me that picture, I'm not forlorn. My eight tiny fingers are fat like sausages and stained with the blood of butchered blueberries. I smiled as I squished each one. I can still make a difference. Maybe I'm doing it right now and you don't even know.

I peered into the face of a modern revolutionary with an overstuffed heart. Legos. I've never fit anywhere correctly; But when my grooves and your soft edges connect something happens. Don't ask me what or why or how purple. I don't know. I'm still a little skeptical. All smiles and spread hands, curled toes and inside giggles. But I like it, no I dig it, I welcome it. I think about it midday when somebody is telling me about their new baby or a video on YouTube. Is that rude?

Can it be this lovely for this long and this and this and this? You see maybe the secrets are all unlocked and it's all about this? Maybe you need this to save the world or yourselves or that? Don't you think it's okay for me to change my mind about what I think about fashion and god?

or are those the things that should be set in stone? What do I even know about twill and the holy trinity?

*** This weekend was lovely and weird. I spent time watching the squawk box. Folk music, love, and revolutionaries. I'm confused about how I should live my life. Do I change my world or do I find a sleepy Vermont town that won't accept neo-republicanism as a ruling format? Is it my world to alter? Am I becoming a softy? Where is my gallows humour in the face of soft beards? Why do people get scared(or angry) when I change my mind about things? Is it because I've looked 15 for 7 years? I've accepted change as gain, why won't anyone else?

This week is going to be busy busy busy. I'm broke. Really really broke and somehow I thought it would feel different. Go figure. That concept is not nearly as encompassing as I imagined. This lords and ladies is a lovely revelation! This my dears is a first (ha ha surely not a last).

I am writing and reading regularly again. Can you tell? Can you? All things considered I can't seem to wipe this dopey grin off my freckled face.