It is has been raining nonstop for several days now. My little cave is flooded and cold, surrounded by little backyard rivers just too deep for tennis shoes. Everything smells like pot smoke and angry cats. I am tired of the morning after taste of rum and coke. I am not the girl I was and the woman who stares at me out of that mirror, with her short wild red hair and pretty thin face whose Will burns in other hearts, she is a character in a story I was too afraid to write.
The Revolution was a scam.
He was drunk and more lost than I’d ever seen when he confessed unaware to the speculations of just where did Che go when he died? Then I knew I still loved him and all our dreams were doomed.
It is the middle of April and after six months of resistance, I have decided to come home to West Texas. But I have come here to reclaim my home, to midwife into the world the fantasies of these lost people searching in the darkness for an end to the hunt for Utopia. And if it is that time in history now, soon they will see that Utopia exists only in the act of the Quest itself.
And that truth is only available to those destined to become new gods.
Welcome back ! I’ve followed your adventures to alaska, texas wherever your blog takes me. I’m glad to have you back and writing again ! You have some wise words… “the revolution was a scam” This is much the same conclusion that many people have also come to. Utopia however does exist. It is built by YOU brick by brick around yourself. Utopia is your family, friends and neighbors, the fabric that you are a part of.
Well, on second thought the revolution does exist. It’s just very slow and almost always takes decades. Don’t loose your flame to change yourself and the world around you for the better.