it is 232 am, my first evening back in the eastern time zone. i write this from the dark bathroom of a friend's in louisville, ky, as my mates are trying to sleep, and the click click click of my fingers is not the most soothing sound for slumber. i've been away from home for over a month, travelling across this great nation. i, unfortunately, was not able to enjoy it as much as i would have otherwise, as i left my heart back in new jersey. i'm sad to say that it did not stay well guarded, but the post was abandoned, the sentries disappeared.
it's unfair to say i gave up. it is partially fair to say i was given up on. it is also fair to say that my leaving was a catalyst, a proverbial elephant in the room, one which would couldn't ignore.
i miss both of my brothers, respect and love them. i realize we are not always the perfect fits we'd probably all hope, but we complete each other splendidly, and continue to learn from each others positive and negative decisions.
chris is in new york living a wonderful life that seems equally wrought with passion and pain, a life of which i am all too familiar. similarly, brian is in india, searching for something that may or may not be located inside his own chest, so a trip was needed to find out. that is my take on it, and i understand completely. travel safely and softly my brother.
these two young men and i share a sadness in our hearts and heads that seems only outweighed by the happiness we feel as well. we are not manic-depressives, but men of the opera, boys of the summer, children of the lost. we're readers and writers, listeners and singers, lovers above all with semi-disdain for a culture we don't really understand. we're the first to admit we're lost, yet somehow often find ourselves walking in front, the haters of escape but the lovers of derangement. well, not all of us, but some nonetheless.
we let the city bite our feet.
though, sometimes we're forced to wear shoes, and do so with equal disdain and ardor.
i've loathed ever step of this journey, yet have smiled more times than i can remember. i had brass knuckles pulled on me, only to later show my assaulter how silly he looked in a drunken re-enactment. his being on ecstacy helped fuel our audiences and each others laughter and acceptance. friends were made in the end. i've learned a lot, made peace with god, and am sure that i'll abandon this once again. i say this not out of spite, but out of a mixture of knowledge of myself, and ignorance of my desires. paraphrased, conor oberst said, "why do we speak of hating god and then seek out salvation?" i realize i've jumped on this train a bit late, but i think the man has some things to say, and a wonderful way of saying them.
in a few days we go home, and i can put my head to rest. my greatest fears will be realized, or so i've decided will be so. perhaps just their bedding down will allow me to sleep. i will hanging up my travelling shoes temporarily, and dream of getting a full sleeve. something about ink embedded under my skin for a lifetime both excites and scares me. not that my skin is clean now, but to lop off your entire left arm in the name of art and the realization that it is often a blatent gob of spit in the face of the upper echelon, well that is a bold and beautiful move.
perhaps it is time for me to lay my head. i bid you farewell, and love everlasting.
