How long does one wait until the bad news is assured. I just want to drop out, not under. But things will change after the voyage. One year later, hardly any greater, and I'm there in the same boat. What's to be said, when all lights go out and the only movement is of scurrying harts. What?
Old Jonah, not of the whale,
went fishing yesterday,
sprung a leak, forgot to bail,
'til his feet were washed away.
Later, when every do-gooder was done
everyone got themselves together for some fun.
They spit rocks, they hung fruit,
they scampered in the tar.
And man o man did they hoot
when they saw Jonah's car.
Jonah, too, was hooting his hassles
"You can't drive without feet, you stupid assholes!"
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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