nearly 3/4 of a century after it's publishing, I have read "Brave New World" by Aldous Huxley

Am I the Savage described in Brave New World?

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I played guitar and keyboard today, for maybe a total of one hour. It is difficult to conjure the energy for music these days. Oh, yes. I also played a bit of C-Harmonica. Musically meditated on my song, Voice Of Your Voice, for most of today's session.

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I miss Nina and the people of Lansing and East Lansing. I hate that my fears became so much of an obstacle for me that I could not persevere, dig my fingers into reality, and make the situation work out. Now, almost four months later, I don't know where things are headed with my "new life" in Traverse City. I wait and wait, for something so indescribable that sometimes I can actually feel pain. Looking at the near-full moon tonight stirred different feelings. Humbleness. Desire. Hope. Emptiness. Reducing my feelings into the words of this blog feels very desperate at this moment. Wishing for resolution for so many things at once is no easy burden to bear. If only time wasn't so easily wasted.

It's a Black Cat in the night.

Sounds that nestle in your ears
Were born from blood over the years.
Resiliently and without haste,
They manifest and propagate.
Elastic bands and adrenal glands
Pulse in unison throughout the land.
While the hands of children talk to the moon,
The plans of lovers fail all too soon.
Changing seasons leave none untouched.
The painter buys a new paintbrush.
Captive thoughts of any kind
Breed hopeful business within the mind.
A fragrant breeze of dust and pollen
Soon leaves the day's work forgotten.

gone to be sprayed by industrial sized water sprinkler

Rearranging thoughts you are having while moving through imaginary, engineered comfort spots. The subtle breeze of a tapestry tips you off and you find yourself inhaling softly. It's costly these days to dream like you did before you felt lost. Words put side by side, hoping to catch a rhyme, sleeping while there's daylight, drinking water at night, faking isn't taking, nay-say to "outside places" and "unknown faces." You say you don't know what is but there's nothing else to see ,smell, taste, or feel. If nothing's real, what makes everything so empty and why decides that how is unimportant. I lived inside a city's limits for most of my life, rarely taking time to see what else could be beyond distant buildings and highways. Now I am here. Here I am Now. Now here am I. Same face, different place in the same old space that doesn't seem so familiar anymore. With a simple life for my own standards, I make small moves every day, slightly impacting the giant world of today. There's a twisted circumstance waiting for me out here, and in there the circumstance sees me as a strangely freaked-out version of itself.