She doesn’t give you time for questions
As she locks up your arm in hers
And you follow till your sense of which direction
Completely disappears
By the blue tiled walls near the market stalls
There’s a hidden door she leads you to
These days, she says, “I feel my life
Just like a river running through”
The year of the cat
I had to stop writing the last entry. I started tearing up and couldn’t see.
I suppose it is the Norseman in me. I don’t take failure well. I have two failed marriages. And perhaps a dozen failed relationships.
At 15 I had my lifeguard ticket. It was officially “Lifesaving certificate” but we all know the code.
By 19 I had fired almost every weapon in the US arsenal.
At 22 I was married.
At 25 I was a father and the senior avionics instructor at the most significant base in the Air Force (Nellis). I had a BS in Aeronautics. The senior avionics instructor at 25, when my boss was 45. I wrote the manual on the F-16A/B to F-16C/D transition. I was fucking 25.
At 26 I was in AOCS
At 27 I was in flight school.
At 30 I was a mission commander flying over Bosnia.
At 34 I was directing traffic, scheduling tankers and moving squadrons all over the world. Collaboratively I wrote the Fatigue Life Expenditure instruction that ran out the clock on the EA-6B wing. Shit I wrote is still used at the Naval Post Graduate School.
At 37 I was an assistant warfare commander.
In 23 years I deployed 12 times.
I did shit. There are times I have to remind myself I am not a failure by any stretch of imagination.
For fuck sake I have an MBA.
My inability to sustain relationships shouldn’t define me. That is only one aspect of my life. But for some reason seems so important to me.
But I have felt so useless for the last couple of years. Not depressed, just useless.
Like I am just spending my time. Waiting to die. And I am staring at perhaps 30 more years.
I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave the state. And there is nothing for me, employment wise here.
Maybe the PhD. is the way to go. It’ll give me something to do, and maybe I’ll run into Tara again.
Violet eyes. I am a sucker for pretty eyes.
Well, she looks at you so cooly
And her eyes shine like the moon in the sea
She comes in incense and patchouli
So you take her, to find what’s waiting inside
The year of the cat…
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