When I was, oh, about twenty two or twenty three, I first began to feel the real tugs of the Goddess. I became aware that her important manifestations were striking not only in how they appeared to my eyes, and later my heart, but more so by the way they were meant to be. The ease at times was staggering, and my fears conquered those every moment. True, I needed inspiration from Bacchus so many times, just to tell me that, yes, she was she. But now when I see those times, I wish to all Gods above that I had reached out to my bright one all along.
Only in old age do we comprehend! And such a shallow memois shames us all.
Once, twice again the bottle fell out,
an escape of glass and a content of stout,
not once did it break on the cheap, ugly floor,
So never did we need to bequeath from thee more.
Enjoy, that's the word you'd used,
When selling us those lifelong tickets
to our train of booze. All abroad!
On Xmas of 1992 my brother gave me this journal made of recycled paper with a twig pencil. I eventually filled it up sporadically up to 1995. I dug it out, dusted it off, and started looking through it today, May 6th, 2013. I've decided to reproduce the posts online. It's raw and sure to be embarrassing, but I feel enough time has passed that I can distance myself, yet find a very familiar me within these lines and perhaps find the inspiration to take up the pen again..... Thanks, big Bro.
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