- Cheap Shasta root beer
- Throw Mama From the Train ("A writer writes...always.")
- Black hoodies
- Silence (in a sense)
- The name Jacob
Tonight, as I listen to the rain and my fingers typing on these silly keys...I wish I could say something profound. I find this mood strikes me fairly often. I miss the late night conversations with Zuni and Ben that use to inspire me to write those insane, but rather brilliant poems. I miss feeling things so deeply that everything in life could become an extension of the poetry flowing through my head and fingers.
Where did that beauty go? There was so much light and dark flitting about my head for so long.
I miss Zuni. Especially on nights like this. And then I think, man, I really should call Ben. But I don't. If I called, what would there be to say? Because what I miss is a period of time that can't be brought back. It's dead and gone.
And then I wonder, is that what happened to my poetry? To my stories? Did they die too? What happened to the magic that use to envelop my mind when darkness fell?
Maybe I have seen too much.
Then again, maybe I just need to reawaken my heart somehow. Just jump start it. But how does one do that? My heart is connected to anyone deeply. I don't have many extremes...other than being angry.
I'm angry a lot. I think it may be what's choking everything else out. Ugh. How do I change this? Guess it's just something to think and pray about. I'll figure it out.
*sigh* I am a whiner. Ha.
So...let's find the magic. And the night. All over again.