Yesterday, I spent rummaging through old emails and journal entries. This piece didn't fit either of those, but it was through the process of revisiting those emails and journal entries that I rediscovered an older piece of writing. After some redevelopment and reworking, this is the rough framework for a narrative chapter in "Glass Mountain Spirit".
I'm going on with trying to put into words, well… sometimes it intrigues me. The first thing that comes into my head is my infatuation with keeping a relationship going... two people who are together, we do everything that we can think of... working through problems to their resolutions.
I have long been hopelessly dedicated to that cause. It's been my firm belief that there is always a new way, one more thing... never stop working. Relationships can always be improved. Sure, I had my 20's... years of aimlessly wandering within the confines of random nights, of lost and found souls with similar, brilliantly dark interests.
Still... most of us shared in the notion of a common brotherhood. Pride, no matter how untrue it may be in practice, gave me a sense of accomplishment and of being wanted. It's a very dangerous thing, this pride. Wars are started because of pride. In the end, there's you holding a rainbow flag in the bitter, freezing breeze. Your beauty has faded, and the train has left you on the platform: forsaken, forlorn, and finally... forgotten.
I remember the Asian man who told me that he'd been in a relationship with his partner for 11 years, until his partner passed on. Even still, when the two of us were done for the night... he had the uncanny sense to tell me that I shouldn't have sex with every guy who takes an interest in me, and is nice to me.
Sort of like he was nice to me, and took an interest in the backpack that I carried around everywhere that I wandered. It was my security blanket in a way, filled with notebooks of drawings, poetry, prose, and journal entries… and out the door it and I went.
In a matter of a few hours, my supposed new brother in arms had lost all interest in me. So in the regretted end, my tried and true brother wanderlust picked me up and dusted me off. Then he said, full of confidence: "whatever happens will be. Here, I want to show you something."