daines'n around

It is interesting to watch the world die around me. The trees are withering in the cold. The animals are hiding in warmer places. The youth still go to school, but they don't linger outside. The elderly drive to the corner store. Everything is a little slower.

Even the faux-plum trees in front of my home have let go of their last leaves. The tree that provided my last bit of privacy has molted.

I've had a lot of empty moments in my life, but it never took long for me to fill emptiness with other things. This newer emptiness is more difficult to fill. But how do I explain that in something other than vague gestures, simple metaphors or cryptic sentences?

Think more. Take a picture. No one calls anymore.

A month since I wrote last; why don't I delete it? Why don't I write more?

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

I watched "La Strada," the fabulous 1954 Fellini film.

Gilsomina plants tomatoes when they finally stop the motorbike/circus wagon.
Zampanò gets ready to leave, and Gilsomina asks why they aren't going to stay there.

"What? Did you think we were going to stay here and watch your tomatoes grow?"

And so they headed off on the Road.

The road: a metphor for life. Zampanò: the symbolic man who dosn't think or feel about anything other than himself. The Fool: the symbolic emotional-driven character who doesn't change the way he acts even when he knows that he is going to die.

And a conversation Gilsomina has with The Fool makes me think.

The Fool: I am ignorant, but I read books.
You won't believe it, everything is useful...
this pebble for instance.

Gelsomina: Which one?

The Fool: Any pebble is useful.

Gelsomina: What for?

The Fool: For... I don't know.
If I knew I'd be the Almighty, who knows all.
When you are born and when you die... Who knows?
I don't know the use of this pebble, but it must have a use.
For if it's useless, everything is useless. So are the stars!

Empowering empathy emotionally evolves even empty-threatening, evil, easily-excited earwigs.

Open-minded otters often ostend oft-omitted-operators on oscillating oceans of olive-colored-oleanders.

Many maturing mostly-midgeted-mules maddeningly muttered Mazel-tov mannerisms.

This is how I put myself to sleep tonight. I should be writing a letter, but my minds going too fast. I should be preparing a lesson, but church is in 5 hours. I also shouldn't be alone with indie music on a Saturday night.

Why?

Youthful-yaks yodel year-round, yet yuppies yearn for yo-yos.