The Parlor
Out of context: Reply #147
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- locustsloth0
i have this odd affinity for desolation, despair, and destitution.
My earliest recollection of this was when, as a child, i would walk around my neighborhood. It was in a suburb of Albany, NY, but at the end of a dead end road, in this kind of circle thing where there were houses on teh inside and outside of the circel. About 20 houses in all.
Surrounding this neighborhood was woods, with sandy roads that followed the powerlines. i distinctly remember standing in the middle of the road, 3 or 4 friends around me, in the middle of a hot, bright summer. We were trying to track down a stray dog that wasn't ours. i stood opposite one of those sand access roads and felt a pang of belonging. Dirty, hot, sand blowing, deserted (there were no houses at this particular part of the neighborhood). And while it scared me a bit for my mind to be transported into that headspace, it was somewhat comforting. It was wild west. It was surviving on what you had.
However i fear that it's created a dip in the table of life. As much as i push to get away, it seems i'm always drawn to that place of desperation. Except, now that i have people to take care of, staring into the face of it paralyzes me with fear.
i almost think i was meant to be alone. I'm most creative when i'm pining or lonely and depressed. i have little regard for my outward appearance, instead living inside my head most of the time.
i have no conclusion for this diatribe.