When you are tired.

The few of you who check this blog may have noticed that I haven't posted anything in a while. My silence is, tangentially, related to time, but more at the heart of it is that I don't have anything to say. No deep thoughts, nothing "worth writing"–only silly little traces that I half-write and end up leaving for a day when I feel more inspired.

I have not felt more inspired.

When I moved back to Kansas City, I had a strong compass for where I was going, and at least what I thought I ought to be doing, etc.etc.etc. These last few weeks that has simply gone away, and has left me to run and tunnel deeper and deeper into absence. The absence of my heart, and my mind in my life, because it simply aches just a little too much.

My wells have run dry, and hard as I try I cannot get any more from them. So disengagement has been my passive plan. And disengaged I am.

I cannot say whether it will change...maybe the way of life is just that at some point you give up your hold on it, and it runs over you with loud clak-clak at every rail-tie year. Happy Birthday-Happy Birthday.

And I must wonder then, whether I am meant to be so disengaged. Whether this is the proper course of things, where my heavy sleep is only followed by the overcast that enveloped my slumber.

If so, my gentlemen, then this is the end of a mind. And the undead have walked from the screen, and are shuffling down the hall to the bathroom that sits cold, just outside your door.