who is the beauty? where is my beast?

Back on the blog road after nearly three full months--wow, it feels good.

It's been 90 days of busy-ness, three moons of mad dashing, a quarter of chaos.

Under the commotion, my juices have been bubbling.  Recovery has been seeping into my bones.  It's taken seventeen months of sobriety, but I'm beginning to get what a wild trip it is just to be me.  (Strange I thought for so long I was somehow unqualified for the job...)

I wrote a poem once called Pilgrim in the Edgelands.  The poem didn't survive, but its title has become my archetype, my art mirror, a phrase to remind me where I'm going and who I am.  Lately those words have been coming up as I remember and rediscover what in this wide wild world is uniquely mine.  My particular passions, my peculiar tastes, my fears, my turn-ons--everyone has them, of course.  I've just been very good at telling myself mine were somehow not quite right, not good enough.

I'm trying to give up good and bad.  I'm trying to stop labeling everything about myself or my life.  Instead, I'm matchmaking a hot alchemical romance between Beauty and the Beast--kinky, poetic, dangerous, and sublime... 

Each of us has a particular chord, dissonant or not, that is created by the simultaneous sounding of specific intervals between love and hate, fear and anger, rage and passion, desire and destruction, lust and love.  All I can say is, "Let the music play."

There is something comforting in the fact that everyone in the world is crazy.  We all follow our own eccentric trajectories, and even those who seem to move in step with the herd are actually zipping and zooming on wakes of causality more like insects in a buzzing swarm.

For my part, I'm content with my wanderings.  There are adventures to be had, quests to undertake, and it is on the road that I get the profound sense that the Journey itself is God.

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...