I awoke

[plural]

a few hours ago

I've pulled a pair of corked bottles
each half full of wine from last night
from the fridge

a couple plastic containers
of cold food
and retreated to my office
to work on my play

I'm making quite good progress
[hell I'm almost done with the second bottle]

I've written quite a bit in the past couple of days
some part entirely new, some drawing off things I've written here
melded to fit the form and style of the play

Of course, the challenge I must face soon
is taking all of this new material
and fitting it into the existing framework

Moving things around
adjusting the continuity.
I expect to have a good draft
by the end of the week.

Although I suspect
that some of you will be disappointed
those of you who fail to separate the play
from the reality of me
however much the two may mirror themselves

I let a dear friend read it the other day
part of what has re-energized me into finishing it
although I'd been thinking about it quite a bit lately

he said he recognized a lot of me in the play
and made the offhand comment that
I apparently don't think I'll live past forty

That is the difference between me and the play
I am intentionally writing a dark play
I have no intention of killing myself
now, on my 40th birthday or any other time.
sure thoughts of death might haunt me
but given the amount of it in my life
I believe that is only to be expected.

The play, isn't my life, it isn't me
however much there may be strong resemblance
in a way,
I put the best and the worst of myself into the play

a cathartic release one could say.

the truth is that I need to die
not physically
but I need to let go
the part of me that still loves her
the part of me that cannot stand her absence
the part of me that punishes myself for her death
those parts of me
must be vanquished
quite simply, must die
if I am to have a future.

I think in a large way
writing this play is to me

a funeral service
a way of honoring the love I once had
a way of owning up to the many mistakes I've made
and the behaviors of which I am ashamed

this is my confessional

and
for those of you who worry
for those of you who wonder
if I am wrapping myself up too much in the past
writing this

I can only say
last night's woman
[for she is neither a girl nor a lass]
has been in my thoughts
all days as I write

I don't know what to make of her
I don't know what to make of me
I think for too long I've defined myself
in terms of losing Charlie

but there is one thing I'll say for her
she has class
and not merely an affectation of it

I am intrigued

Comments

[budhaboy.livejournal.com]

She's always happy to oblige you, brother. I'm glad things are going well.

[plural.livejournal.com]

well may be an overstatement.

things are going

and as always

I shall endure and come through

some moments are brighter than others
and last night

definitely had more glimmer
than most of late

I enjoyed myself immensely
and
that is enough

[budhaboy.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed myself immensely
and
that is enough

As far as I can tell, that's all there ever really is, the rest is just smoke.