Snakes, Snails, and Puppy Dog Tails

I went to Alex's studio in her basement this evening and watched my fiancee dance. I would say 'work out', because that's how she sees it, but it's not the same. I watched her dance - and not just in her feet and in her movement. She dances in her eyes and her smile when she's caught in those moments like the beautiful smell of hay in an October barn. I can't help but think of how much I love that woman. I marvel at it like true alexandrite in my hand. I fall into the unfortunate habit of wondering, "Why can't we always feel like this?" But a life of utopia in constancy is as mundane as a prison cell trapped in winter, at least this side of such an awfully big adventure as death. Heartbreak is as valuable in this life as ecstacy.

It's an easy thing to remember from the well-guarded safety of my own room - wearing wool socks and jeans, watching Andy doze and listening to Linford play the piano. When I venture out into the death-defying world of making memory amongst humanity, I am much quicker to become a boy in my thoughts. I am quicker to drop the true man's knowledge of sorrow and happiness and Love that stands between and encompasses all. But then, aren't we all boys. Boys who chase and play and hit and yell and are made of snails and puppy dog tails. My father says he keeps waiting for the day he'll feel grown up, which I take in part to mean, "I keep hoping for the day when I feel like I know what I'm doing." It's good that part of humanity is still inadequacy. Walking down the street and tripping because of clumsiness, then turning to see what it was that you tripped over (when your own feet are following you). Not knowing you went too far until you can't see where you came from anymore. I am hesitant to say that I've learned something from all this, because my mask of great intellect is made of loud claims that once were worth something, before I spoke them to myself and then to others.

I need to eat, like Elijah. The journey is too much for me - I'm always a boy. The time for talking is gone with the sun...