I gotta tell you;

Once in a while
I get the
Blues

Stayed up too late
Have too much stuff
Not doin what I want
Just
One in a while
I get the
Blues

Grey days don't
Bother me
The world tells me
Too many things
Once in a while
I get the
Blues

Bein right and straight
Avoidin all the bad
It's hard, ya know...
It's just that
Once in a while
I get the
Blues

I am in the college library bogging on a cold, overcast day just like so many times as a student. Some things don't seem to change much. (I need to make my escape soon, this place and I are more than ready to part ways...)

Thinking of San Francisco...

This weekend I:

1) Drove home in the rain with no wipers
2) Cought a cold
3) Smashed the back of my hand with a Sledgehammer
4) Sliced my foot with a razor blade

Still, I managed to replace the front springs on my Nova, sleep in, relax with some coffee on Sunday morning, and eat frozen pizza with Ranch for dinner. We also watched Pan's Labyrinth for the second time, and it overpowered me just as effectively as the first time...that film is such a beautiful and painful work of art; one of the greatest fairytales ever told, and one of my personal favorites.

Never in my life have the creative juices flowed so sporadic. In days gone by I could turn out a poem or a picture with little effort nearly any time I wanted. But things are different now, I struggle to find even a spark of inspiration, have to battle fiercely with mind and mood to cross over to that place of imagination and musing. Yet I notice that the quality of my work has by clumsy steps improved. I am not the inexperienced youth filled with intensity and passion, pouring out onto the page a commentary of every moment or idea that has stirred him; no, I am calmer, quieter and though perhaps less desperately introspective and creative, there is a sense of things brewing deeply, and when they do at times make their unobtrusive way out, they make more sense. I guess one way to put it is I am no longer living on a wonder-filled precipice of emotion; the cacophony has subsided to a degree and I can sit by the the study window in the dim of the evening and allow all the ideas and paradoxes of the passing days to accumulate and ferment into something (hopefully) worthy making art.

Change still strikes me with sadness and surprise sometimes though, no matter how I praise the good that comes with it. I am content and joyful with the life and gifts God has granted, be sure of that. And though there is sentimental mourning for the wild insecurity of times that were not so long ago, the present and hopeful future cannot by left empty.

On that note, here is something to ponder over, if you will...

Here are a couple of new ones from this week.

It rained yesterday afternoon and this morning. This a rare thing for SoCal at the end of summer, but here it is, wet and chilly, fresh-earth-and-trees-and-damp-clouds-smelling, and it is absolutely lovely. Nothing inspires creativeness in me more than a good rainy day.
We have had so many people over lately. Always fun of course, but I am beginning to understand the kind of busy-ness that happens when two lives become one---even if you have a ton in common. Entertaining guests is really enjoyable; the only thing that would make that part better would be if this was our own house. Time, time.

Swimming in the dark last night in the mountains...moon was coming out, billions of stars and 90 degrees---at 10:00pm. We tried to find the fire and all we saw was a tiny flicker miles away in the blackness; a forlorn remnant of the massive wildfire that claimed a quarter of a million acres. Home late after the soundtrack from the 1928 'Passion of Joan of Arc' left sad and creepy emotions settling in the backs of our heads...