watershed

Last night, bottled up emotional stuff start pouring out of my ears. But seeing how the Internet Gods hate me, I couldn't get online to blog about it.

Then, this morning I had a fit of sudden emotion that ripped me completely out of stagnation. Luckily, I was on my bike so I did a 180 and headed down South Carolina Avenue toward Abbo's Alley.

Abbo's Alley is this wonderfully profound and magical place that reminds me a lot of The Secret Garden.

Upon arrival, I parked my bike, pulled out a cigarette and walked over to the stream that, for no apparent reason, bends around like a question mark. The air was bitter and angry. It was cold out, and my lungs hurt to breath. There were a lot of things that spoke to me. But mainly the clusters of flowers that clung to the edge of the stream even though it's now Autumn, and the leaves settled at the bottom of the stream that swayed with the current were what stuck out the most. There were also some roots growing perpendicular to the flow of the stream. They made continuous ripples below the surface of the water.


"up on the watershed, standing at the fork in the road, you can stand there and agonize til your agony's your heaviest load, when you're learning to face the path at your pace...every choice is what you are"

I want to be the flowers, and for a while I was the leaves. But now, I'm the roots.

I'm at my fork, but I'm not hungry.