underthoughts

.No. I don't have to publish this. I love this house. Might've just called it Charlie.  I love the colors of the walls, the wind in our trees, the big windows in the living room, the way my roommates are spread over the place, napping like felines. There is something magic in the view from the yellow hammock, currently giving trial to the name Lemony Snickett. Let me tell you about that view. It's got by blue jeans, my green nail-polished toes, the deep yellow ropes, a bar of dark rosey wood, the dark green and purple of the periwinkle, the peeling white paint of the old tipsy shed, then rising up the greens and silvers of the trees lit up with a soft yellow from the sun sparkling through against the blue of the sky. Life's soundtrack grows ever more enchanting here. Tonight we head to the lake with Chinese food. Check that moment off, though it's not the same without the originator, but she's good. Great even.  More than anything I wanted to go jump a train today. I better do that in the next few years, because I'm bound to get more practical. ...though the radical is still there, like a sleeper cell. I suppose part of it is just wanting the adrenaline rush, and the accomplishment of getting on. It's a big part. But I want to ride through the country side, those big doors thrown open, and the warmth of the day lightened by the air rushing past. I want to see the fields, green and golden. And then I want to jump off and land running before the cops can get me, because their never gonna get me. Eat it boys.
    And there's another thing too. I want a broader perspective. I'm so self centered. So self focused. So caught up inside my own head. A man cleverly pointed out the other day, that every person on earth had a completely different set of experience than I do. Even people I've been close with, even when we stood side by side, we stand apart in our feelings, thoughts, backgrounds, even body's.
    I am continually surprised by my ego. Even now, talking about myself, talking like I know. I don't have the answers. I just don't. I expostulate plenty. But the truth is, I don't know, and I don't know where to go to find out.

   So tell me instead: Who are you?

   
Life flies by. Yeah. It does. But it does beautiful. Lightening and laughter. And round here we pack it in, because we're young enough to feel the freshness of it, and old enough to know that there isn't too much time.