say whaaaat

It's amazing how time takes everything away.
I wonder sometimes how I'd be faced with death.
I wonder how that would change when I considered my children. I can even say a wife. For one of the first times in life I was on a plane in February and I didn't want it to crash.
Wait, let me back up a little more.

Since I was about sixteen the propensity for negativity overtook me like a Greek God. I will learn who it was as I learn more about the culture over the next two months or so. As time has gone on, the gray of dissonance has given way to the black of suicide. Only the idea of it. Carrying that idea around for nearly a decade however is a feat I wish upon none.

The movement to, which we may call 'acceptance of' positivity lately - aided by the awareness of vernacular - has brought into a stark juxtaposition the trance that held me for about, or over ten years.

This is partially what is meant by a sun rising - this is the 'sun' portion of that esoteric, tongue and cheek, joy to speak.

A few months back late into the new winter of 2010 when I again was stricken of fantasies of suicide - nearly always a shotgun blast through the dome, bones and brains and lifeblood my last painting for the world - the image of my lovers face came to me. I was relatively joyful at the time (relative to my decade of negativity presumably may be safe to say) - this was literally a fantasy which gnashed on my spirit for almost 12 years! Alive by passive submission, versus conscious election!

It translated into all things - for instance, the above example of riding planes and smiling at the prospect of a collision or a crash (it's no wonder Fight Club resonated...or at least aided in this fantasy - ha!) - but I may be light about this now for the joy of what I am, seen against the darkness of what I thought I was.

I was striken with this fantasy - this fear bringing sadness, embodied in corrupted thought - and I saw my dear Andrea's face as if she was to walk in on my mangled remains in my downstairs restroom. For the first time to this fantasy, I teared up and could have cried should I have wanted to; and wanted the demon, the corrupted Greek god, the twisted and fear based gnashing of spirit - gone.

I have had many wonderful women love me - wait, let me say - wonderful women have loved me, and I really thank God for allowing me the opportunity to be with them in our time - this reaction as I had to this old sickness in me however, I reacted to this later in life, and it was the horror on the imagined Andrea's face which brought me to conscious aversion to this passive submission.

I am blessed to feel loved - certainly I may have been loved, for I felt as if I myself have loved in the past as well - currently however, I feel loved, and know it from the ancillary reactions and behaviors it has brought on. It is a very remarkable thing. One to which I am more open because it is very clear that this is not of my doing.

Ancillary means like really enjoying keeping a steady supply of foods I know she like's (to name a very simple example) - making sure the bananas and yogurt stay kept up.

Years ago I saw a friend say of his new bride, "She pretty much saved my life" - I desired this, now, I will have it.

The sun rises, and shines where it wishes...

Today is a familiar day, today is an old friend, I am literally spilling out, spilling out, spilling out.

I have a meeting to attend.
More, will certainly follow.