July 29, 2014

Cool morning, the last many hours scrubbed to emerald and sapphire by storm.

I have sometimes remarked and often recognized that my appearance is totally unrelated to my spirit, not at odds with it, maybe, but not a clear picture, not a true part of the narrative. I don’t look like who I am. Opening a magazine yesterday, I had a shock in seeing my true face, the face I would have if I looked like who I am. It was a boy in a fashion ad, solemn and maybe a little suspicious in expression, but the soul of me. I tore the page out, and every time I look at it, the surprise, the unquestionable recognition is renewed. Our dialog is still too mysterious for me to put into words.

I wish I knew what to believe out of a host of plausible mythologies. Either God got it wrong, or I did something before this birth to skew things just enough that the skew is the base point of all my thought.

Finished Washington Place with the revelations that came in the night.