Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.


Do old wounds ever quite heal?

Today has been a long fucking day.

I've resigned myself to Cleveland, which is a good thing, I suppose.

This trip, however, is reminding me of another I took several months ago, one preceded by considerable gut-wrenching misery and an awakening I had no desire to undergo.

It's been months - almost six, to be precise - and apparently I like the twist of this particular knife, 'cause just when I think the rent has been healed, I give that blade another spin, just so I can run through the spectrum of emotions again, because it's just so much fun.

Mostly, though, I think I'm just confused. I understand the way of the world, and that life isn't fair...but I'm generally able to make sense of it, to find the reasons that lie under the actions - and once I know the motivation I can put the puzzle together and kiss it goodbye. But I can't here. I can't decipher the code and figure out what the hell happened. I can't understand why my honesty and openness and trust and faith weren't enough, why they were repaid with...what? I don't even know what to call it. Everyone's the hero of their own story, but does that necessarily mean there's a villain? Does that mean that someone else's choices are done maliciously or thoughtlessly? Can someone else's confusion look like hurtful dishonesty?
Anyway. I'm wrapped up in this right now, whether I will or won't. I can't seem to escape it, much as I want to. I mean, really, I've gone through the typical cycles several times now, to no avail. Maybe I'm just too stupid to know how and when to get the hell over it.

Band has shows tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday. I fly out Sunday night. Wish me luck in Cleveland.

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