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Colleen, Sylvia and Me

“If you want to quit or even if you want to kill yourself, wait a week, because by then the whole world will be different, and you know it always is!” Colleen says.

 This will be a calm spring return.  If I can survive the commercial blaring pink frills of Valentines day, the most soul draining holiday about fabricated, candy love, then yes, this will be a peaceful winter term.  J disappointed me for good….exed me from his life like a used kleenex. Maybe it’s a transient feeling and potentials aside because they’re not often realities, but where I saw art and passion, I now see computer chip and I also see maybe weakness, self-induced mind control, a very normal predicament to the average mollusk.  And besides it’s not true, he’s an escape artist, and I’m an overanalyzing black biled indecisive vagrant…sometimes.

But forget all that!  Be here now Ram Dass, or Ray LaMontagne would warble and croon.  What is in this immediate moment?  Well I have architecture tomorrow! And daydreams, morning coffee, a good book to finish, another good one to start.  The Journals of Sylvia Plath.  Getting into journals of writers I like, they seem like a peek inside the underwear drawer.  A secret little corner rarely visited, where all of the stories are demystified, and discerned with the raw, aggressive emotions and deliberations behind the scenes of their plots.  Maybe Sylvia’s life didn’t end pretty, but I relate to her, and I loved reading her over the past recent years.  I am    soooo     disconnected      sometimes.      I    am        far        away.

There are a few out there who feel similar parallels.

She writes: “I’m am too tired, too noble, in a perverse way.” and “no more knuckling under, groaning, moaning, one gets used to pain…”  and the best words of tonight of all “O do not make an artificial stasis which is unbreakable; break and bend and grow again”

And so I will, and I hope you will do the same…

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