Wait, What?

I arrived home this evening to find two items in my mailbox. The first being the DVD box set of Todd Haynes' Mildred Pierce, which I love and wanted as a reminder that children are simply wretched scabs that will break your heart and fuck your lovers. (I secretly suspect that a similar thing could happen to Madonna if she keeps dating men closer to her daughters age than her own...) I happily added this to my Amazon queue when it became available and was pleased to see that it arrived today. 

However, the other item in my box- a National Geographic magazine, I have no memory of ordering. Oh wait, it has a map of the world with it.... Maybe I do remember possibly subscribing to N.G. in order to get my hands on this precious map of the entire fucking world. But was that really my motivation? What kind of person was I hoping to become in 2012? What does the fact that I signed up for a subscription and forgot about it say about me? I love reading N.G. at the orthodontist or other such glamourous waiting rooms I might find myself in. The pictures are fascinating and beautiful. The articles, interesting enough... Usually in a WTF kind of way. But who was I on the day I decided that, yes- it's time to be a National Geographic reader on a regular basis?

I've been shedding layers of toxic self over the recent weeks. Old skins, beliefs, attitudes... I want to let it all melt off like whipped cream on a hotcake. I don't need the calories and the guilt is so passé. I'm beginning to see the world through new eyes. It's a very good feeling.

I met a man at work the other day, who upon hearing my Christian name responded: "You're too young to be a Wayne. All Wayne's are twenty years older than you." I thought about that for the rest of the day. It made me feel good, somehow better about myself. I decided to google my name to find out what I could about it and stumbled across a couple of different articles in reference to the fact that a disproportionate number of criminals have the middle name of Wayne, ala John Wayne Gacy. Something about the fact that middle name Wayne's are more likely to end up behind bars for heinous criminal activity than people with other, non Wayne middle names. I was slightly freaked out, as this was not the information I had been looking for, so I paid little attention and went onto other less threatening web content. (As an experiment, just say your name out loud and insert Wayne as if it were YOUR middle name. Creepy, right? This is my reality, mind you.) 

I'm not a criminal. Though I have often thought of myself that way. The fates are vicious and they're cruel. I learned too late I used two wishes like a fool...  So what shall I use my final wish on? 

I know that having it all could cost me everything, but what have I to lose? Even though I have a map of the world, I'm still not coming to save you. You'll have to forgive me, my dear. I'm molting.

Phoenix From The Flame

Somehow I had forgotten the simplest of rules. I would breathe it all in and absorb all I could until I finally collapsed like an ancient empire, unable to sustain my majesty. Yes, it's true, we are all born to die. But the waiting is truly the hardest part. I've had my share of meantime. I could write a book.

Let's try an experiment. Who here can say beyond doubtful shadows that they love themselves just as they are without conditions? Without exceptions? Fuck me, I'm failing; we all seem to say. Desperately seeking... And still the beast goes on. Always hungry and haunting. Crying into the night as the siren on the rocks. Bring me a sense of humor and a water back, goddammit! I ate the seventh seal and clubbed it's baby.

We are taught, early on, what to think but not how to think. I think it's a shame there is so much shame. Pepper spray is the accessory of the season. It's quite striking next to the indifference and self-indulgence that seem to have taken the world by storm. Is it better to stay true to oneself or go with the latest trends? I can't decide really, since the latest fashion seems to have originated in the deepest corners of my soul. Mint in spring? I will keep my eyes and closet open to it.

I promise you this, cowboy: To cherish your sweet memory even as I devour your archetype. And if on these coldest of nights you hear me howling, know that it is for you that I croon.

I will rise.
And I will return.

SO