Yes, the picture is fuzzy. Is anyone surprised. I mean, a picture of a little girl ( a clarklike girl at that) sitting beside a substantial Casper the Ghost toy complete with vocal ability? I’m sure that, more often than not, pictures involving the occult/supernatural are not quite Kodak klear. LOL (Today’s was to be the much delayed 3rd in a “Halloween series” type post. Not. Maybe later…..)
Too late! Too damn late for the post that almost was – the “Casper – Staged Suicide or Murder?” post. Ya see, too much time went by with NOTHING. NADA. Creatively speaking that is and then, they came. All kinds of questions. Rolling, rumbling, tumbling, swirling over the desert plain that is my brain like a mini tornadic dirt devil. Dancing like a drunken sagebrush. There were memories twisted and torn (“like an old dollar bill“), deleterious debris hugging the highway of my mind……
Sometimes it just happens. You know, thinking about the past. A simple, pleasurable walk down memory lane that turns deadly in a matter of minutes. Seduced by illusion and facade, the past is often retro fitted to fill the needs of an unhappy, dissatisfied or restless present self. Unless you are one of the lucky who have the life, are living the life always dreamed. You may proceed reading this as fiction.
Choice and circumstance. Surely there is something else? An external energy? A kink in the karmic fabric? Can it all be laid at my own damn feet? At my own fabulously covered feet?! Whatever….putting particulars aside, I need to catch a bus outta here! Need to hop that “midnight train to Georgia”. Anybody have a bus schedule? Whatever allegorical term you want/need to use, (because they’ve all been used) go ahead, personalize it. The mode of transportation can be just as important as the destination.
Most of you, at this very moment, are slipping quietly out the back door, holding it ever so carefully so as not to let it slam ‘cuz yeah, it’s one of those posts. ‘Sok though. Allow me a brief interlocutory as to what this is about. There! That word “interlocutory”. It simply popped into my head. Where the hell did that come from? It is a proper word, it’s application appropriate (at least in my mind) in this instance. But where does shit like that come from and why can’t I have more of it when I need it?!
Girlie’s going through a mid-life crisis? wtf! No, I haven’t gone off the deep end moron! And no, I’m not going through a mid-life crisis. Ah, would/were that the simple truth. Such a cliche. Yet many folks in the hinterland will lay claim to that overused, overrated rationalization for not being who, what and where they want to be. In the words of a not immortal band, Black Box Recorder, “kill yourself or get over it”**. Makes me smile everytime I hear the song. But then I’m a clark. We like people find amusement in the oddest “places”. (** the clark in me feels a need to make the statement that I do not seriously endorse or otherwise encourage the taking of one’s life. nor do I find humor in the fact that many an individual has resorted to this most desperate and sad act. a clark’s humor is often a dark humor. context. let’s not forget context.)
Hey you! Somebody, anybody! Go get me a continuity pen and let’s wrap this ball o cat contorted entanglementum. Let’s see…..where was I….. It is absolutely legal to amend any part of life. In fact, it is incumbant upon everyone to amend one’s life contract with a codicil that includes new choice(s). As long as the final destination is what was hoped for/intended at the initiation of the journey.
OK. So this is weird post #__. Sue me already! As a clark, it’s my prerogative to periodically question the present, review the past and make yet another plan for the future. (and write shit like this) Now, where was I?