Void of the Innocence of Perfection

Alright, so it's about time to update this void. At least, that is what i have been told more than a few times now. i have had many good intentions to in the last month or so, but life has a way of throwing you curve balls (as the saying goes) out of nowhere that can be completely consuming. And when i say curve balls, i truly do mean curve balls. Like rediculous angles that you wouldn't believe are possible - i sure did not. But that's another story to be told another time.

Which reminds me of the book "The Never-Ending Story." Now there's a great read. i don't have a copy of it out here in the prairies with me, but now that this thought has popped into my mind, i think i really want to search for one. Really, i would strongly suggest it. At least, six years ago, when i last read it, i definitely would have. But maybe that was just because Mike recommended and loved it so much. I was always one to trust that opinion.

i don't have anything in particular to blog about momentarily. Usually my poetic juices run amok and overflow, or, at the very least, my words formulate themselves in artistic, vague patterns to produce what are, hopefully, glimpses of written art rather than thoughts and babbles on a page. None of that is present right now. I wonder how long until it will be until it is again. In some ways, i have had life completely sucked right out of me, and with that life goes creative capabilities and inspirations. Sometimes i wonder if i would rather keep what i know, what i hold fiercly close to me, what defines me in many ways, like writing, over even my sanity. Scary thoughts, but holding some degree of truth nonetheless. Sanity is only worth much when it accompanied by personhood, identity, self. At least, that is what it seems like when personalized. But maybe i am just misguided. That happens every now and again. Regardless, this is not a topic i should be comfortable flirting with just yet.

It's like yesturday night. I was at a social, a Halloween one in fact. After the social, the floor, littered with beer and broken glass and dirt and paper and other unknown liquids, was just the perfect slippery-ness for me to be much too tempted to give up sliding on, especially because i was wearing "hot, strappy one-inch sandles." So i started spinning in circles, letting the wet, liquid-saturated floor propell me on. As you can imagine, shortly after i found myself sprawled completely un-gracefully on the same disgusting floor, beer seeping into my clothing, people staring bewildered and amused. Anyhow, that same incident illustrated completely, at least to me, what i mean by flirting with topics. Perhaps this means nothing to you, the reader, the wonderer. To me it does though, and just because of that i am not about to go back and delete this entire, possibly useless, paragraph. At any rate, the social was amazing just what we needed. Dancing the entire night away without thinking about anything. Dancing myself out of my head.

It is snowing outside today. The perfect snow. By perfect, i don't mean perfect as in glass- elevator-on-the-blackest-night perfect. I mean tiny drops of perfect, gentle, graceful snow barely floating down from the heavens. Complementing the November bareness entirely, a foreground for the dark browns, greens, blues and beiges that characterize the Winnipeg streets. Perfection. Ah, how my eyes will never be drawn away from seeking perfection in everything, even what i see. Perfection. The false allure of the hopelessly innocent.