yearning

The moon is almost half full. I'm staring at it through my window, listening to george carlin and pondering yearning. It has plagued me all week, a yearning for something, anything to make me feel. I often get these flights of dissatisfaction. There was a time I moved cross country on a whim and a weeks notice, with little money and no plans. I had a like minded Gypsy partner then who was just as fly by the seat of the pants as I was. Now that he has taken The Great Trip (death), I have seemed to have lost my verve. Now I sit waiting to go to bed to start the road to hell afresh tomorrow (the Desk Job). This is why I yearn: I have had it more exciting and can't seem to find my way back. I yearn for the time to pursue my art. I crave travel. Especially I crave jack. Maybe because he is freedom, or represents it. I want to be the little bohemian girl again, and it will take a grand statement to do it. It will take an act of courage or bravery so profound, or so stupid, to cause a seismic rift. All I need to find is the door. The night is ripe for a talk with Hecate to send in some Chaos to stir things up.