it's a cruel mad world isn't it?

It didn't take me too long to discover that I cannot be healed by a fabulous Tool show or by seeing Tori Amos perform "Smells Like Teen Spirit" live. What I did learn after this month of weirdness is that when I'm there, in that acoustical, ravenous temple, I'm home. On stage - wooo another idea. Almost out of body. But at 36, if you haven't nailed it you're better off just keeping the dream alive quietly off stage - in the living room of your 600 sqft Seattle flat dreaming of moving to some far away land where everyone will recognize you. Not like David Hasselhoff in Japan recognize you. Just recognize that you're damaged but worth taking a risk on.

Last week, those two shows, the passes backstage, the new boy who was so not for me (sorry Luis) and the pint of Jack Daniels split along the days made me realize yet again that I am but a wondering soul. While I walk a path, it is important for me to keep my boddichita, raise myself beyond the level of mediocroty and well, not settle for anything less than what it is that makes me happy. What makes me happy is understanding and ending suffering. Is this possible? At least 80% possible, I'm sure of it.