Sisyphian Dyno-mite

Visiting Port Townsend was good.
Somehow my family always inspires me;
unintentional, but I like that about them.
For instance, my little niece(4 years) and nephew(15 months)
are incredibly awesome.
I think I’ll go visit them on their home-turf sometime soon.

I’m hanging with Daniel, Jason, and my dad;
all sometime this week. At the risk of gushing (more),
my friends and family are all an extraordinary gift.
I still feel pangs of longing for that deeper connection:
coffee under the stars at midnight in a deserted field;
conversations about the significance of insignificance;
dancing in the afternoon thunderstorms, giving off so much
electricity we’d be completely oblivious to lightning-strikes.

Yeah, okay … wax poetic much?
My point was [is], I still feel these pangs,
but they’re not unbearable.
I need to get out and dance.

–

Sometime in the next couple of days, I should hear if I get the second job here at Saint Martin’s. If you’re reading this, send some good energy my way [I really need this job]. So far, work is anything but toil. As I may have mentioned, being between semesters we are quite slow at the moment. Things will pick up soon enough, of that I’m sure. I can’t say I don’t appreciate a little slow time, though. Life isn’t hectic, but my mind’s a whirlwind of untidiness, for whatever reason. I need to get out and dance. Work will pick up soon, a million-fold if I get this second job. No idea of the consequences this will have on my life and happiness [I’ve been needing the down-time]. Like all things in life, it will require an adjustment; I’m gearing up for buzy-ness as a positive experience. Working hard makes life seem more dynamic, somehow. One hard fact: I’m toeing the line of financial doom, ergo I need to start working my ass off. Maybe that’s a soft fact, I don’t know [buying into social structures and financial dependency; work & reward mentality]. I need to get out and dance, and I need to stop whining about needing to get out and dance. Going down to Vegas and losing all the money I don’t have on a single spin of the roulette wheel sounds fun, too. I really believe that the idea has merits [loss of money as liberation]. And my options then? Sometimes I think becoming a vigilante superhero would be fun. Unfortunately, I would always suffer from the quandry: kill serial rapists, or asshat politicians? I hope I’m not the only one that thinks that that’s a tough choice.

Ha. I’ve never even gotten into a fight.
I can’t imagine inflicting mortal punishment
in the service of a sense of justice.
There’s too much fatalist in me, yet.
Not a lot, but too much. The existentialist in me
thoroughly scorns it.

Were I truly a vigilante superhero:
I would go to battle; enlightenment my sword,
snapping the whip of creativity at the heels
of the ignoble villain.
Is it so naive to think that
I could solve the world’s problems with literature?

Sisyphus is uplifting [sorry about the pun],
but the world may never know.