It Lives Again!! All Fear the Mayor's Zombie Duck.

Hey, all. Thought I’d do an update post on where I am and where the Mayor’s Duck is going. (Hopefully to a pond near you!)

This blog came to a swift standstill when I became employed, due to things like: feeling I had a purpose, not having nearly as much free time, and just blowing off things that felt like work.

My new job has been a blast. It’s filled with fun, smart people (even Lina is pretty okay I guess), and it has anchored me down to a community that I feel beholden to. It’s a good feeling, and the work isn’t half bad either. It’s no apprenticeship, or teaching job, but it’s a far sight better than the fast food jobs I’ve held in the past.

In this way, the Mayor’s Duck, a desperate attempt at purpose in an atmosphere of abstracted detachment, slipped from my mind as easily as it had entered.

But, while my job is satisfying, it is not cerebral. And so I have come back to this blog and to writing. Hopefully I’ve shed some of the negativity that I so desperately tried to keep out of previous Monday entries and ideally I will have both. This blog, this job, and eventually a real career.

So, I don’t think I will be able to do three posts a week yet, though I hope to work back up to that. This is just an update. The blog is still alive, despite me falling off the face of the earth, and everyone I’ve invited to write posts are still in my mind.

Hope to be back on Monday, and to at least continue to post a “journal entry” and a creative piece every week. 

Weather Patterns

There is an eddy in the middle of our living room, just by the molting couch our roommate sleeps on. It leaves the carpet undisturbed, but above I can see the flow and ebb of our dynamics. Lots of good feelings, tied up with memories. Those float at the top, bubbly and warm. They spin in the eddy as though it were a ride.  I can hear them from our room late at night. I can hear the bark of your small dogs, the laughing of our friends. I can hear your voice, ridiculously loud when you're happy. I can hear the colder parts, too, that lie underneath.  Panic and insecurities.  I can hear your voice breaking, and the soft sound tears gliding down your cheek. Sometimes we fight, and there is no noise except frantic typing.  We don't speak in our anger.

I get so overwhelmed that I can't delve down to the deepest part. The middle of the eddy, that perpetuates the whole thing. But it's there, and when I rest my head against you I can hear your heart beat.