So...the price. Yes...

First off, the call comes early...in later years I remembered the beginning but in the beginning I didn't know. Didn't realize what the signs were...now I see that my nonchalance was an indicator of a detachment that was to preclude serious involvement in issues usual...issues common...issues normal.

every one else was chasing girls/women/woymn/whatever and I was dodging thru back yards trying to find a place in which i fit... no one cared then and the world is too busy now to wonder at the nitch i fell/worked myself into

who knew then what was coming certainly no one suspected the dark hours betrayals tears and savagely toryn beliefs...no one. ah, yes but jill dear jill she knew with kerouac and patchen and that host of others buoyed by cunningham a leader that there would be no rhyme nor reason and that all the inherited charts would be useless as i stepped into the wind.

At some point things change...at some point the lines are loosed and one starts to drift away...slowly...water not rippling...no discernable motion...but there is motion nonetheless.

It's the kind of motion that allows for a distancing...from friends, from family...it is a distancing that, eventually allows for those "others" to gather round you in the Darkness...allows them to come in the Hour of the Wolf.

And when they come they find you crazy...crazy cause you waited so long without knowing that you were waiting...crazy because you were drifting all this time not knowing that you were drifting but you could have bet your ass that something was wrong...well, maybe not wrong, but most certainly not right...all of a sudden you are driving along and there They are...standing silent...no motion. nothing. This of course is after they send in their soldiers the Red and the Black...This of course is after you have drifted so far from the norm that people move to the other side of the street when they see you plodding their way.

But we are drifting from the point of this discussion I think...you asked about the Price paid for this...and indeed there is one. For the Sight is not a Gift it is a Burden borne in Pain and Isolation...ah, yes...the Price.

fabrication all and for what point is this the wonder constructions feeble gropings at communication why all this you ever wonder such like me...so old so ignorant so so devoid of any simple answer other than that the fabrication counts so carry on dear soul and never ask what drives that engine and yet when ill when a fractured mind no longer provides the respite sanctuary and that hollow into which one can fall then what to do this happened to me you know fell so far down down down was wondering if id ever get back and prayed even to the devil god whatever name him/her but back i came and to what i have to say...to think so much is fabrication only seems there is no mission cause or given good standing alone to beckon me to where...

and still i wander try trying tried and yet am thinking this is because of weakness never strength oh we say were strong and stumble on but would it not require more strength to say the hell with this the futility and aimless wandering mid fabrication with never ever an expectation of the answer am thinking bettter to say enough enough of this fuck you dear world no answers found am tired of searching better to leave this trail to someone who doesnt care so deeply.

And, yes my friend...no one cares that this route must be traveled alone...

This photograph belongs to Tatiana Parcero