Day one. The rains have come and gone. There's a cool breeze.

Things that are on my mind today include: getting something out in the mail, making photocopies of exactly those things first, stopping by the "office" to return clippings, possibly the possibility of doing some writing today, calling to see if I have a job, and picking up my girlfriend from work.

Nothing is mine. I look around. Nothing is mine. Not in a material sense, but rather in a metaphorical sense. But it's real. Metaphors are real. This is real. It's true that nothing is real. You can put your arms around that truth.

Why do people do this? I think for me it might be to formalize my internal thoughts. To make them somehow more acceptable. To make them somehow something real, and to force them as well into something that "people" can access. Something that doesn't look like the marvelous bleeding dragon that is my mind, that is behind these words.

Everybody wants to be a dragon.

My dragon is bent and broken. My dragon pulsates on the floor of the subway platform, heaving from effort and tears. My dragon breathes fire, but don't they all? My dragon is hideous. My dragon will play with you but only if you don't fuck with him. My dragon has a short memory, for good and for bad. He never sleeps at night, he just closes his eyes. Sometimes he wishes he was a frog, a good frog, a frog prince. But then, not really. His wishes never last. He's only a dragon. He wishes he was a child, he wishes he was a gingerbread man. He wants to grow up. He wants to die. He wants to just go away. He wants to be a dragon. He looks in the mirror and smiles through the tears.

My dragon slays me.

Maybe people want to hide their dragons but, not really. Mostly they don't. They want to show their dragons, but they want them to be normal, to be accepted. So they manipulate their dragons to be pretty.

You can see the irony and the hypocrisy of this. It's not complex.

So, day one. There is my dragon.

- posted by seanmh @ 1:14 PM