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Long tremendous wait.


8 June 2003:
I receive news of a letter coming from Anja. I will wait patiently. I think of what I will say in my letter. Should I delve into the darkness of my soul or lie. Honesty is the best policy. "Honesty is such a lonely word. Honesty is hardly ever heard." I start a journal of my waiting game, including as many musical references and innuendos as humanly possible.

9 June 2003:
I wait. There are high hopes. My spirits are high. There is an endless euphoria. I then ponder the true meaning of "sadness or euphoria". It is raining. My hair is wet. I slick my hair back like Elvis. I am Elvis. I sing Elvis' songs "In a Sentimental Mood" and "All Shook Up."
How does it feel?
How does it feel to be on your own with no direction home, a complete unknown, like a rolling stone?

10 June 2003:
Is it raining? Maybe I don't know. I should really get some sleep. I sob loudly because I do not know where I am. Dazed and confused. Been Dazed and Confused for so long it's not true. Wanted a woman, never bargained for you. Lots of people talk and few of them know, soul of a woman was created below.
It's like bowling for soup.
Luckily, I am consoled by a piece of mail addressed to "Occupant".
I may have won 10 million dollars.

11 June 2003:
I sleep for 18 hours in a puddle of rain water. Then, as I arise from my prolonged slumber, I consider this: if a tree falls in a forest and no-one is around to hear it fall, does it still make a sound? Would it? Would it not? Does it really matter? And if no-one's around to hear it, how do we know it fell? And who cut it down in the first place if no-one's around?

12 June 2003:
Why is this in my mind? I wish it would stop raining.

When the rain is blowing in your face
and the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
to make you feel my love.

I wait I do nothing else. I am sitting on the cold, cold ground. I am alone. I am barefoot in the rain now. It is so cold that I shiver. Maybe I'm a fool who's just afraid of rejection. Maybe I was born to run in the badlands. It is the darkness of solitude that makes me wonder what has happened to my life. I am blind. I see no sunshine. "There ain't no sunshine when she's gone." My sanity is leaving me. It flows outward like a river heading to the ocean. We all end in the ocean. We all start in the streams. We're all carried along. By the river of dreams.

13 June 2003:
It is Friday the 13th and I meditate the devil has been chasing me all day. Dear saint Anthony look around something’s lost and can't be found like e e cummings my insanity has set in and I run around town and I approach people and I scream at them "ydobyna morf --hs yna ekat tnod"

14 June 2003:
The letter arrives. People everywhere are joyous. World peace is achieved. Harmonious music plays. All planets are aligned. It is the dawning of the age of aquarious. I am set free from the black and white world and I emerge into the world of color. I am a skyline pigeon.
You can make me free.
You can make me smile.
You can make me be like a little child.
You can melt the ice that chills my body.
You can dry my ev'ry tear.
You can make the lonely hours disappear.
You can make me free.
You can make me rise.
You can make me see.
So open up my eyes.
Don't you know my only real moments are the ones I spend with you?
How I long to drink some wine again with you?
I can take the skies.
I can soar like a bird
With his heart full of song, yeah, yeah.
Won't you color my eyes?
I've been writing so long.

© Ed Derosier 2003

25.1.09 14:00


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