Excerpt from a letter, 'The Table is Set to Scribble'

I would just like for you to know that I am not disturbed in a negative way. Yes, my dental woes do linger, however, by the half century mark, hopefully, one comes to realize that the process of reinvention or rejuvenation is typically an uncomfortable one. Ask any caterpillar. Still, I have become aware that earlier I wrote to you inside of a sort of square shaped bubble, one that sang of misty misery and steaming surrender. Fatigue and permeating pain, slicing my jaw and humbled brain, surely contributed to the edgy lack of eloquence on my part. I am sorry for that. Fortunately, however, as bubbles are sure to float, they are sure to burst as well, as that one did. So I simply want to clarify that, in essence, I am feeling strongly moved to take clear action, regarding professional and personal pursuits. Whilst virgin ideas and unmanifested desires dangle off the limbs of life’s tree, those fruits require some area to flourish. For seemingly eons, it is this respite of distance that I and billions have sought to invent, to manufacture with such misguided, moppy-minds. Only to, at some point of exhaustion, come to recognize that allowance, not a mighty marteau, is the worthier of tools to behold. This recent visit to Paris has not boxed me in a billowing, stinky scent of regret. However, as a result of the unforeseen deviation and since several hot suns have now past over, I can better see how my writing project, a long desired trek, has once again begun to slip under the shadows of childhood demons. May this dreadful cloak of doubt, unremarkable attire, not usurp or suppress any mounting appetite that my heartened pen and tongue remains prepared and wanting to deliver. If in the end, I may only scribble a few webs with good intention, ones that can merit some moments of attention and perhaps a stone someday, tucked away in Pere Lachaise, I shall transcend on a soft cloud and un-empty gut. From within the intimate confines of summer blazing walls, where my thoughts ricochet to and fro, from a peasant’s wishful perch, one that overlooks sprawling emerald hills, white mountain caps as well as never-ending valleys left unmapped, I can fathom nothing more satisfying at this juncture than to navigate and interpret the annals of all the unaccounted sweet and sour breaths I have taken thus far. Yes, I have come to witness an available space. A place that is not for lease or sale. It is alien to all of that and so it is spared from the drumming of clocks and doom. It is an unearthly bar that invites sobering awareness and where happy hour is but a joke, for that well has no limit. As the saying goes, 'The table is set.' It is time to pull-out my chair, sit and eat with fervor, finally. Lest the mind deprive not a hungry soul. I trust that this expression rings clear to you personally and plants a good notion about the alchemical possibilities for you, me and humankind. With deep appreciation for the light and many bridges you have thus far knowingly and unknowingly lead me to. E~