The Maelstrom rises

I am immersed in a sea of possibilities for new muses. I am going mad with the process. It is like you are searching for a kitten and come across a basket of small, furry creatures. Maybe they are kittens, maybe they are not. Maybe they will grow into cats, maybe something else.

Do you cast them aside out of uncertainty?

The Faerie tempts me, but stays just beyond my reach. I cannot tell if this is a restatement of the dream of the three panthers or not...am I supposed to act? She spoke the other day of dreaming of being a panther. Is this symbolism, or coincidence?

Now Atalanta emerges, tall and lean. As Jasmine may have signaled some possibilities, I am quite fond of her but I find her a frightening thicket of Gordian possibilities and am uncertain if I am just going to be wasting my time with her. With any of them. The Princess remains on the periphery, daunting and taunting.

There is a major theme within me to remain in Los Angeles and dispense with all the guessing games. I am too weary and too wary to play games with children who do not know what they want. I will almost certainly visit Rick Lupert's Cobalt Cafe on Tuesday, under an assumed name, and read until I bleed.

The die is cast, it is but to me to have the couer rage and wisdom to read it.