lucky number beddin'

Remember in a previous blog I mentioned something about how the years are all the same to begin with (er, and to end with I guess)? If you don't, you're most likely not me. Or have a bad memory. If the former, that is fine, because it would be a little awkward right now if you were, in fact, me.

Even so, I did mention something about years. They start off with you being full of energy, hyped, because it's a new year and who knows what it holds? Endless possibilities, alright! But no, it's not like that. It takes the average person six months to figure that out and by then it is too late. They've already crossed the point of no return; no refund policy here. See, the problem is not that we're all doomed to go through repetitive cycles (well, actually, we are since we think we're not, because of some mysterious plan destiny has made for us). You know, Destiny is an attractive female according to myth and I suppose thinking she had a mysterious plan for us is acceptable in certain lonely hours. Oh, whoops, I digressed and continued from the parenthesis.

Back to the point: Cycles. We... years seem to repeat - not exactly of course - because we expect them not to because of some invisible force taking the reigns.

Last year faded out as most years do - uneventful, unhappy, impatient for the next. Down the hill from June/July into the mud pit. Only, just as the mud was licking my chin and tempting me down I looked around and noticed somebody else being seduced into its depths. Two things occurred to me at this point:

1. Mud is actually good for your skin and makes a decent sunscreen.
2. The pit isn't that deep and, you know, if I stood up I would easily be able to walk out and not get sunburned and have good skin and even help the other person out.

And so I did occuration two.

From there the year was exactly like lying on the ground at the bottom of a hill covered in mud with another person beside you. It was dirty, yet strangely edifying. Like the sun's rays baking the mud was infusing some kind of energy.

Energy to flex my incredible muscles, shattering the mud-skin, and run up the hill with the other muddy person on my shoulders. Halfway up they too would feel the energy and we would run further, back to the top where we look down at the pit and smile, because in those black seductive depths (actually it isn't that deep) was where it all began.

And somehow I ended up in another state with said muddy person and it was good. It was best. Three nights of real fantasy.

The next step is probably kidnapping.

- G ζ.

Ran in circles and ended up lost
In your own familiarity
When all you had to do was stop
Look around and see for yourself
That there was never a path
Save for your own steps
The journey right before you in any direction
You just never ended up starting it