by compound complex 58 Replies latest watchtower beliefs
Oh, CoCo!!!
It is not as comfortable, to be certain, but perhaps you could use this time to be a lurker in civilization itself... and take the time to do some people-watching?
As proclaimed a the end of a film, "There are eight million stories in the naked city." How many stories are there in your library (not including the hardbacks?)
Love!
Baba.
You're at the Library??!!!!
Well, hello there, old and dear friend, Baba!
You're right. I just had to find an angle in keeping with the thread title. The human interaction is most important.
And my finding MY SEVERAL WORLDS by Pearl Buck for $1 at Friends of the Library was a godsend (I would not have
found it, I'm sure, if I were still firmly ensconced in my homely cubicle).
Talk more later ... I'm rushing about!
Love,
CoCo
Hi, dear, dear Beks!
Long time no chatter! Yes ... I've been w/o home pc and net for a month now ...
How are youse?!?!?
Love,
CoCo
Hey Coco!..
Hope you get your computer at home up and running..
It`s nice to have you back..
..........................
Thanks, OUTLAW!
Great to be here, though it's not very often and I have to rush! MY PC does work - recovered on its own from a virus - but I had to disconnect from the net. This is OK at the library but very noisy ...
Hope to talk more later!
Cheers!
CoCo
Rudderless in a sea of broken dreams,
My declining state of mind entwines with a
Tentacled sargasso that pulls me downward,
Downward into black, cold, unrelinquishing water.
I love the land and all her beauties but do fear the sea
And have never gladly nor willingly ventured upon a bark
In search of adventure high or low that would risk my terra-
Bound life by the perils oft regaled by les ultimes survivants.
Adrift in my thoughts, I roam the scary shores of what this craven
Man fears the most, the uncharted waters of the soul and spirit that
Will surely swallow down whole this flailing, gasping wretch until every
Sign of life, hope and vitality are extinguished in death's throes victorious.
My host and hostess were welcoming and hospitable enough.
I could not have been made to feel more at home. Losing your own little castle - whatever the reason - is a shock to the system: body, mind, heart, soul. You're not in a very good place, as the saying goes, though your new but temporary digs may actually be more luxurious and comfortable than those where you once slept peacefully, happily, every night.
Not one to dwell on personal misery for too long [how do you define long?], I decided the least I could do was to pull my weight and not be a burden on the dear people coming to my rescue. They treated me like a long-lost son, certainly with more show of love and appreciation than my own kin ever managed ... Don't want to go there ... yet....
Things went well enough for a while, but I got restless and a little resentful of all the questions about personal stuff and my day's activities: Who was that letter from? When do you plan on getting a better job? Are you looking for a new lady? So on and so forth. I felt a little guilty as "Mom and Pop" were so good to me. After all, they had no children and, well, they sort of adopted me, so I figured. Sure couldn't gripe about those three delicious squares a day or the warm bed or having my laundry washed. But I felt I had overstayed my welcome - not that the old folks were pushing me out the door - and I was itching to find a little place with the bit of cash I had managed to squirrel away.
How could I have known that when, at last, I was ready to check out, I would not be permitted to leave?
'Oh, Johnny, what would we do without you? You've become a part of our little family - you fit in here like a round peg in a round hole. Please reconsider staying!'
Such was the gist of gentle and persuasive yammering that filled my ears if so much as my eyes and thoughts drifted out the living room window when we sat down to our postprandial coffee every evening. Every evening. At first it was my custom, as the dutiful son, to clear away the supper dishes, put them on the counter and tell Mom that I'd finish washing up and drying and putting away once I returned from my little, innocent nighttime wanderings about town. She'd just smile, kind of a knowing smile (but knowing what I had no clue).
"Run along, Johnny, don't trouble yourself over it. Have fun and don't give Henry and me a second thought!" Mabel's caressing tone and manner reassured.
That's what Mabel customarily purred as I set out each night to prowl beneath the blazing artifice of a neon-imbued uptown, my getting as close as possible to but not actually into the messes a young man's typical tomfoolery would normally insist upon.
Mabel and Henry were biding their time....
Edit for Adrift:
Adrift in my thoughts, I roam the scary shores of what this craven
Man fears the most, the uncharted waters of the soul and spirit that
Will surely swallow down whole this flailing, gasping wretch until every
Sign of life, hope and vitality is extinguished in Death's throes victorious.
