In Transitum :: The Me That You Know, He Had Some Second Thoughts...

The Sleeper has awaken...

Circles converge and collapse... Wheels turn and grind... Time moves at its pace...

The more I chose to let The Universe lead me by the nose, the more The Universe tugs me. I had an idea and then it changed... and now I have a new idea... and it is good. Fear is but a mirage in the current of time. {Insert, The Litany of Fear}

I had a dream last night about riding my bike with my daughter, Amelie... but she was older, easily 12 or 13... she looked like a blending of her mother and great-grandmother, Millie, and she was smart as a whip. We were riding with a friend of mine through the "bad part" of Church Hill and she kept reassuring me that, "It's fine, Dad... my friends are here." And so I went along with her and my friend. Along the way I saw a house that reminded me of a home from my childhood and I pulled off to investigate. It was dilapidated and falling apart... maybe the house on 414 South Main St, G'ville... Maybe the house on Morton Street, Rochester... the structure is fuzzy, but the details were clear. I wandered up the stairs into the living room on the second story (definitely Morton Street...) and I found a book in a bureau under the body of a dead rat. The book was a school text about American history circa 1980-something an full of notes in the margins about how the core text was full of shit and a lie and misguided, etc. etc. yadda yadda... As I read through the book it became clear to me that it had been annotated by many owners and one of them was writing a history of here experience being a pregnant teenager. At the back of the book between the last few pages was a white new-born's onesie with a black stain in the center of the chest... written on it in magic marker were the words "She had no idea". When I looked up from the book I could see out the front windows that my daughter and friend were being held at gunpoint by a "dark figure" and I stepped out the window and fell to the street... When he turned the gun on me I said, "You have no power over me... put it down... walk away..." and he pulled the trigger. I could feel the holes... I could hear the soft thuds in my rib cage and yet I still walked towards him. All I could see of his face was a tear streak down his ebony face. Amelie walked up to me and said, "Let me take this, Dad." and she took the book from my hands and smiled at me and my friend said, "How did you do that?"

And then I woke up and went for a bike ride and ate a really good apple from the local cheap-ass market.

I will not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little death that takes us all.
I will face my fear.
I will let it pass through me.
When I turn around my fear will be gone,
Only I will remain.

Or something like that... oh, Frank Sr. I miss you so... Your son has delivered the final chapter, but not in your words.

And so it goes.

In other news. Radiohead is just too cool for words... And Trent continues to amaze me.

Ta,
Red