Yeah, it's about that time, that time being "Get the motherfucking hell out of Dodge tiem because Los Scandalous is beat and I've pretty much had it with the people, places, and things in this place, especially those who share some DNA in common with yours truly."
It was once told to me that people eventually wear things out-- places, jobs, people, etc., etc., etc., and you either go down with the dying host or move on like any other virus to new pastures.
Recently, I've discovered to my horror and great distaste that I happen to be "people" and have started to exhibit some of these people-like symptoms. Which means that my current figurative host has lost some of its splendor and sustenance-providing sparkle as it enters brain death and its sphincters start to loosen and it's time for this particular virus to ride off into the sunset.
Or the sunrise, as the case may be.
Change is good, and sometimes a change in scenery is even better. So why can't I get that Buckaroo Banzai adage out of my head?
"No matter where you go, there you are." Therein lies the danger-- if you're stuck in a pattern you don't enjoy, change the pattern before you change the channel, otherwise you'll be bringing the same old shit to a nice clean slate.
So that's probably first on the list of things to do before I start packing shit into my car. Figure out what doesn't work anymore and get it the hell out of my psychic real-estate.
In the meantime, let's wax poetic a little bit more:
Maybe it's part of the whole "rejecting the end of cycles" thing.
El Aye has nothing for me anymore. Certainly none of the "magic" that may have enticed me to these parts back in the day-- no, that was college, and the chance to escape those over-rated environmental changes known as "Seasons."
Perhaps it never did.
Time to stop being an observer of cycles and slave to patterns.
On to the next host.
Also, maybe some more art later this week.
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