...as it so often does in my life and time, that all the things I wait for to make a right moment for these little pleasures of mine own, fade away day after day into the bleakness of some other agenda. Washed with the fabrics of everyday life that sifts and sorts the melancholy meaningless menageries of socially aware correctness dressed in polite schemes of intolerable boredoms in the laundry basin of waters where the dirty waters of already washed and rinsed items get tumbled together again in a dingy brine of soapy residues. Leaving what should be crisp and clean half rinsed of its gathered dusts, stains, and spills to later be dried and pressed into the fabric of what a day has to be. And all along the way I realize the familiarity of my being drifting away into a nothingness where no feeling is felt, no idea is thought, no meaning becomes of any anything or anyone.

Friends become faces on a plastic screen where we wish each other well with fake thumbs. Relationships are shopped around on profiles where no one willingly wants to advertise them self and life becomes a series of photos we all separately share as if to say, "wish you were here."

Oh and the ideas. The wonderful visitors who peruse through to say, "remember me. We were introduced some while back and now you've given me away. Not that I'm angry but I had so much more to say, so much more to share with you, so much more that I thought we could learn together. But you just stopped visiting. Stopped writing. Stopped giving me even an inkling that you were interested." The wonderful locations of small cities being alive with the faces of a variety personalities and stories of their own to share stopped building their lives in my mind and the dreaminess of a sun rise over the hills of a valley sloped with little rivers and fruit trees became lost in the traffic of some vast void that swallowed up the the morning fog glimmering with the gold and peach dew covered grasses that waited to be seen in the windows of my imagination as I opened the curtains of time to behold the wondrous sounds of passing winds, chirping birds and the smells of wide open heavens filling the room around me.

I tried to make time to find my way back there. I try to encourage myself forever onward to go but the world is too big for my small ideas and hasn't any room left in it for a person's private life to belong. Its criteria is much too strict, its precedents much too tedious for any one person to need to be. I wish I could put it all away and have those moments to live without all the main streaming, intel-teaming, condemning, and demeaning avenues of monotony. Would that they would just go on their own way and allow something to exist without its over demanding judgments of what, who and why life isn't worth my time; and why time isn't worth being alive with thoughts of something other than what is in the news, on t.v, trending now, or passing by in the latest make and model.

Yet as usual, I dare it again to give my mind leave to plunder as it will, among things I find appealing, refusing to be dragged into the mindless mindset, right in front of my nose, waiting to debilitate my thoughts into a multimedia mess of nothing. In search of the faces of the people who became friends with my imagination wanting to be a part of something other than a name sake. Friendships that made me wonder if such a relation could be possible and if so what the dynamics of such a thing would include. Beliefs that were believed, problems that were solved, incidents that were detailed, landscapes that revealed themselves in layers of multiple scenery all looking for the right place and time to reveal themselves onto the mapping of a traveling imagination.