City of Legends

Yes, I am.  Ever the brave and bold madman, dancing on the cliffs, I have found age and disappointment have takn some of the edge off the blade.  Being as introspective as I am, I see most of the root causes and work hard to not only defeat the symptoms, but also the internal mechanisms.  I have always been a bit of a mad scientist when it comes to my own psyche.

I am sure there are those who would react with shock or dismay that I am trying, once again, to make a shift, emotionally, but I am tired of being victim to my own scars and those of others.  I am starting to get angry with myself for not being more durable (even though, it has been pointed out to me, that I passed the rated "crush depth" for the human heart decades ago),  I expect more, demand more from myself.

I’m not going to stop tinkering, although I am going against one of my most deeply held beliefs that, as social creatures, we cannot be right for ourselves if we are not right for others, or at least, significant other.  Perhaps that is why I am fighting a fierce holding action, but feeling the bravado of the lost cause of Spartan warriors at the Hot Gates.  It is the acknowledgement that you are engaged in an Herculean undertaking, but one inevitably doomed.

See, there it is again.  The shadow.  I am unamused and yet bemused, at the very point a recent groundswell in the arts community towards me as an icon of hopeful romanticism, I find myself turning from peridot to jade.  Not good.

We shall have to see what I can do with an orchard of lemons.