Previously Posted at my Livejournal. It was written after a really bad date and a walk through the city. Oye, I was an angst ridden young man.
This will make little sense, read on once dear friends.
The man in white beckons me onward, and I walk. The red does not bother me and I walk. My friend the moon, who has always been with me, shines light on the dreary, deceased shell of another city. I walk and smell the pot, see drinkers, in the alley I see the ugly lovers in the trash. Plip plop go my shoes. The man in the painted mask passes on his bicycle, his arms pumping in the air and he whistles. An image of Bruce Willis in an apron is spliced with a shot of a radiant smile. I stop to gaze at the giant egg about my head. I walk. A sad little walk, that of a man who knew and refused to accept. A man who still refuses and wants to strive. A man who hates to admit he has no control. I walk on. The melodrama of my life is neither grand nor all that interesting but I walk. The night is warm yet I feel the chill laugh of the bear and the ladle. The moon stays with me. I walk. My mind knows not where it is but my feet are well trained. My heart has decided to sleep, no not for long. It has retired to a cabin in the woods watching Freddy, making it laugh as it over analyses it’s romantic vision. Soon it will return to the triumphant sound of a Russian violin, then it will either stay or go to the Bermudas. In the mean time I will sing, coach the blue surprise and write of Sunshine sketches, masked comedy and lovable monsters. I do no write for you, I write for me. I let you read my thoughts, disjointed as they are, if I didn’t want them to be read they wouldn’t be here.
Am I a fool? No! Ask someone else and you might be surprised.
