hearing the bones creak against the mass of the sky

In the next ten days I am due to have "101 Great Erotic Poems" put to bed (so to speak)...and it is about time. I realize that my moods are influenced by my works, and editing time just bathes me in the emotion and memories implicit in key works (you should see me when I am absorbed in the edits for "Ronin in the Temple of Aphrodite").

But add to that the real world gravitas of the way people have always come to me with their troubles, and it sometimes is a bit overwhelming...it is a bit of a flex to fight against the impulse to slide into the boots and cape and try to reshape reality into a better place. There are moments that I can only suppress the urge via a brittleness that I find most unbecoming and inconsistent with my worldview, but is now a necessary tool in my utility belt of mental self-manipulation.

I hope, when the time comes, I can put it away forever. I hate it. But like a man forced to eat what he must eat to survive in an hostile environment he must navigate, I find it a necessary evil to visit upon myself.

But not for one instant longer than necessary.

Remarkable recording session earlier today, I may have something surprising, in a day or two...