Good Morning

A broken night that had to be endured but not enjoyed. With the sunrise comes the relief and an opportunity. What chance is there with the new day? One more chance to be the person I should be, in every way. It seems that more of my minutes are spent tediously cataloging my deficiencies than putting in place the better behaviors that I can see before me. Why all of the petty pursuits of personality? Why the moral drag of ungenerous thoughts that make me appear larger and more powerful only to myself?

I'm sure that others can see through all of my pretenses and plays, just as I can see the artifice in other's actions, and yet, as the moment ticks forward, it seems so important to make these little stands and statements. I am an amateur, elaborate illusionist with an audience of one.  A tired and jaded critic sentenced to spend my little eternity in sitting on the hard wooden bleacher in the side-show tent of my own tawdry "amusement park" and watch the single performer inhabit the multiple guises of a hundred different characters, without costume or makeup, without art or talent, without understanding or even conviction.

I whisper and shout and stomp and dance in pretended understanding of what I see and believe I understand, in front of my audience in the mirror. But I don't dare to look into his eyes because I know I will see the pitying disbelief, the embarrassment shared from him to me.

I'm all I need. Seal the entrance to the cave, I'll do this alone. The riddle is; How many people does it take to make eternal conflict? The answer; One!

The repetition of the same play of hubris, insult, downfall, condemnation, retribution, collapse, forgiveness, feigned understanding, redemption. Next show in 1 hour. Perpetually entertained, forever believing in the freshness of the scenes, never, ever recognizing the pattern. How many movies on DVD do you really need for Alzheimers group? A fever dream of repetition. It seems to be my life.