excogitative

Friday night, red wine and fatigue and much-desired solitude…

Strange how it all works, that is, if it even works at all. But, I suppose it does, somehow. This moment we call life. And it IS a moment. The greater time-line of it all makes that a perfunctory fact. Here we are now, in our lives, as seconds tick into minutes tick into hours and days and weeks. And before we know it, life is something we can look back on. It's relative. Really, the theory of relativity involves more than physics.

So. Yes. A Friday night in because I am too damn tired to make the foray into social circles. So tired that I can't sleep. At a middle-place outside reality on a bottle of red wine yet so ensconced, so enshrouded in the depths of all of this... whatever "this" is.

I often feel... isolated. Sometimes by choice, but also by who I am. That feeling is invoked to such an extent in the first book I wrote, "Ache." I can be incendiary. I can be temperamental and stubborn, acerbic and cynical, vindictive and wrathful. I brood. I theorize and philosophize and reason. Occasionally, it all makes a sliver of sense. As my friend Dave once wrote to me in an email, "You're so jaded, it’s a shame. I know there is marshmallow center under the bad-ass exterior." And he’s right. There is generosity and loyalty and love in me. I embrace those feelings as much as I do the darker side of my emotions. They fit – they work in tandem. All that I am is a culmination of where I have been and who I have known and what I have experienced. Through it all, I seek only truth. I want those who will be true to me to keep me warm. I'm a Leo and pride dictates. Leo - born to rule. Better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.

I raise my glass and this next gulp of wine is for you, whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever brought you to these words.