Excuse me if you read this on another tribe...

The sound of a wine glass clinking...two glasses are touching...and I feel two sets of eyes are also making noise. Why do I go on trying to make the square fit into the circle or the octagon fit into the square. He is climbing up walls, looking for me. I am looking around at my own walls, seeing hot sauce drip down the walls, watching all the gossip I've heard or said dance off the walls into my space. Since when have I turned into an adult. I remember when I was 19, and I would listen to 30 somethings with their plaster-a-paris make-up and drawn-on eye brows talk about work. The topics were tedious and all consuming. I would try to find another table where I wouldn't have to hear this...but now I find myself within their circle.

Before I only spoke of ideas, ideals, emotions and new lovers, now I speak of what he is, what she said....etc. I need to put my foot down...and stamp it out of me. I keep dreaming of little things, dying....little things I have neglected and ignored, so they are dying...or are dead...and they keep changing forms. I used to think these little things were my inner children...but now I realize they are the writer in me...all the stories I have dropped, the projects I have abandoned. And it is not sad, but amazing to think of how these things have autonomy, life...substance. If they can come back and talk to me, trying to find their creator/mother to be saved, then maybe I should listen? I should surround myself with them...and let them run all over my insides, letting their wildness drip from my walls, and out my eyes. Instead of thinking of all that I missing, maybe I should start to think about, and work on all that it there...but neglected.