Down the Rabbit Hole

Tripping in Shallow Streams

I heard an old song today. It was one we used to sing along to in my car on sweet summer days before the end came. It made me smile. The Bare Naked Ladies, "Brian Wilson"; it seemed you identified so well with the random lyrics and rolicking melody. Its not often these days, in the mist of my new life, when I think of you unless its forced upon me. It was a nice diversion just for a moment to remember you that way, carefree and happy, your big fingers drumming the tune out on my shoulder and your newport out the window streaming smoke into the afternoon sunshine.
This brief flash of memory tugs at my guilt, and reminds me of the work I've not yet finished. I've not even worked the piece for months and I know I have to finish it. I know its the one thing I really must complete, for me. I might have wrapped my arms and my heart around my new love and my new life, but until I finish that novel, I feel there will always be a phantom in my shadow. "Grasshoper" haunts my port. Its time I really try to pull it together and give it a proper burial.