i don't know if I'll write anything today. It gets like this during my workweek, Friday through Monday. I skipped yesterday, but I didn't really. I came here, went through the process I go through to generate a journal entry, and nothing came out. That's not to say that nothing was accomplished. Like lovemaking sans orgasm; sometimes that's the best.
But I have arrived at the ASCII character level of my journalling process today, and with quite a little spurt. I almost feel young! It's nice to be taken along, carried by a wave of passion reminiscent of the hormonal fevers of adolescence. Much of that was torture; the guilt, anxiety, hopeless longing (or so it was considered at the time), and ferocious lust, always getting in the way. But, Oh! the flow... the rushing warm gentle power lifting and carrying parts of us so sad and heavy we thought they might never move. No matter that we would later crash; it was every bit worth the brief flight.
and so it goes. Though now more rare, such levitations are more thoroughly appreciated in our maturity, sans guilt. Perhaps the parts we needed moved were bigger then, the anchors more than we, in our youth, could aweigh alone. It is a cheap shot to say that youth is wasted on the young. If the dire straights of youth did not demand it, then their liqueur, like our own which we recall so fondly, would not need to be so sweet or strong. That beverage thins with age, not for lack of anything, but for us diluting it with so many things we want it to lift and carry—on a wave of guiltless passion.
Be good to yourself today, and enjoy your 'self'.
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