Blue Jay Way
Traveled to the College of Fine Arts, knowing full well that the rush painting job I was working on was not going to be rushed any more than... I'm at a loss for words.
I met someone today. Female, laid back, pretty. As spoken for as me. Doesn't live in Lilithville, but resides close enough. Our introduction and conversation were educational for me, else I wouldn't have mentioned her in the blog. She held a mirror in front of my face and forced me to take a good long look...
Her opinion of Bingo as occupaion for ex- Fine Arts dinosaur was not approving; was mitigated only by my invocation of Dex's best copout excuse-- giri or on, also known as the Honor Debt to the Folks Who Raised Me and Therefore Have Some Say in My Future Evolution.
Writing this down, I remember my snack run a coupla nights ago. The nearby school had some sort of multi-band concert. Good musicians, lousy musicians-- the whole kit and caboodle. I remember looking at some of the bands as they lugged personal equipment to and from the 7-11 I was in. They didn't know it, but these were "my" people. The music, the sweat, the after-performance buzz, the "groupies"-- I missed all of that with a pang that just wouldn't go away. I remember buying the Gatorade, the made-in-China instant noodles and walking home to Honey feeling bad.
I remember telling her about it when I returned to her bedside; what Honey told me after. I wasn't selfish enough to fully truly pursue that path.