lovely scars

I'm getting deep into The Dharma Bums, but I figure I owe it to some people (like six of you, or so, who actually read this) to keep the updates coming. The fodder to fill this blank, white rectangle is something that is difficult for me to find, at moments. At other moments, I'm straining my seams with bold ideas and tales of adventure and deeds done, but I'm miles away from the keys. The whirling torrent of nonsense that is my psyche does not have the patience nor the amabition, despite my own best intentions, to keep anything meaningful or coherent for the amount of time it takes to get tab A to slot B. So I'm left with this blank, white rectangle. Its soft glow is maddening.

Conversation turned, the other night, to recurring dreams, so I've been giving mine some more thought and it occurs to me that I've had many in my lifetime - and still do, from time to time. In fact, a new one has cropped up in recent weeks. I am still drawing new details each time I wake from it. Putting the whole thing together is a painstaking process, but even once I understand it for myself - or at least have a clear picture of it in my head - I don't think I will share any of it here - some things are meant only for one's self. We all have our faults, shortcomings, and regrets in our lives; I'm just not ready to strip myself bare for all to see. Some claim doing so is a cathartic process, but I'm not even clear enough yet on what it is that has ailed me for these decades to begin any sort of healing. For now, I'll carry on, taking comfort from every scar and callus, knowing that each is tougher than the flesh it replaced.