At least one night a week, I get an itch and I can't find it.
Most of those nights, I assume I'll find it between the layers of cat hair and sawdust that blanket my garage. Most of those nights, I don't find it there. Lately, I haven't found it anywhere.
I've been stuck walking in circles, looking for words I might have dropped beneath every surface I've ever walked upon. Between cobwebby stacks of journals; in the undergraduate-grade "artwork" that desecrated the cinder block walls so many years ago. Sometimes, it dawns on me that I might look no different from a crack addict who's dropped a big fat rock through a crack in the floorboards. It drives my significant-O nuts, because he gets to watch me come upstairs at 8 a.m., exhausted and empty-handed.
Today, I stopped looking, and five minutes later I tripped over a treasure that I guess I dropped sometime between June and now. Direction, intent, focus, belief. Propellant, pressure, kinetic force. The vehicle; the simple machine; the Jaws of Life... there are a lot of words that stick to such a thing.
Yeah, it sucks to spend months building and sharpening arrows with the ferocity of a crack addict, and it sucks for everybody close to me, as well. But it's fucking awesome to have a thousand sharp arrows in the bag when you finally come across the goddamn bow.
Most of those nights, I assume I'll find it between the layers of cat hair and sawdust that blanket my garage. Most of those nights, I don't find it there. Lately, I haven't found it anywhere.
I've been stuck walking in circles, looking for words I might have dropped beneath every surface I've ever walked upon. Between cobwebby stacks of journals; in the undergraduate-grade "artwork" that desecrated the cinder block walls so many years ago. Sometimes, it dawns on me that I might look no different from a crack addict who's dropped a big fat rock through a crack in the floorboards. It drives my significant-O nuts, because he gets to watch me come upstairs at 8 a.m., exhausted and empty-handed.
Today, I stopped looking, and five minutes later I tripped over a treasure that I guess I dropped sometime between June and now. Direction, intent, focus, belief. Propellant, pressure, kinetic force. The vehicle; the simple machine; the Jaws of Life... there are a lot of words that stick to such a thing.
Yeah, it sucks to spend months building and sharpening arrows with the ferocity of a crack addict, and it sucks for everybody close to me, as well. But it's fucking awesome to have a thousand sharp arrows in the bag when you finally come across the goddamn bow.
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