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Blogs by William F DeVault
uh oh 12/5/2004 8:57:30 AM
somebody woke up. at last.
the litmus test of my emotional state is always in my poetry. always. to divorce me from my syntactical catharses would be like peeling the skin from a lemon, eating the flesh then trying to sell the rind as a fruit.
eagh. what an image.
I was at the Black Bear last night, watching Alan's band play. damn good. of course, being friends with most of them probably affects my opinion, but I think I can be dispassionate.
I was talking with Alan's wife, a great and gracious lady, about the divorce (amongst other, more meaningful topics) and I paraphrased a line Daniel Stern uttered in City Slickers, upon meeting the impossibly beautiful Helen Slater...my version "There are several women here that, when I was alive, I would have found attractive."
And it hit me. I am not dead. This time the divorce was not my fault. For all my fondness for Ann, it had become a favourite pair of shoes, now three sizes too small and out of style. My main emotion seems to be relief. Staggering to consider, but true. I had anticipated, even hoped for, this very thing for some time.
I went back to my diet this morning, went for a walk, wrote a new piece (here on AD, live...something using Pellinore as the metaphor...)
and I feel...good, and hopeful, about the future and my life.
Thanks Deb. Alan. Justin. Amanda (nice hat!). Wade. Mary Beth. Teri. Yvonne. Camille. Nancy. Stephanie. Anastacia. Robert. and everyone else who has invested some time and trouble making sure I wasn't sinking.
I just needed to open my eyes, jack my soul back into the primordial fire, and rediscover me. hot damn. I may have even found a few possibilities of new people for the MRC.
and, yes, I am still shy, mostly because I don't like getting shot down. but, I promise to be a little braver. I am where I am, when I am and how I am because that is where, how and when I am supposed to be. the dream of the three panthers was just a dream. I am not responsible for or beholden to the words, thoughts, actions or integrity of others.
In a final note...my cousin, Chilton, passed away the other day. He had been one of my great inspirations as a kid, a very literate and wise mind. Between him and my father is where I learned my love of language. the world spins a little cooler. I shall have to compensate with new fires and perhaps taking on fresh proteges. maybe I shall write a song. or fifty.
you know me. I will rest when I am dead. and even then, who knows?
