This thing we call life. It’s all such a mystery, isn’t it? I took this monstrous step and am now attempting to tame the wild beast that is both within me and in the nature of life itself.
It’s a couple of chess pieces inching across the board; it’s a set of hieroglyphs scrawled on a cave wall; it’s a car careening around the bend on a mountain pass; it’s the part of the story where the plot congeals and takes some totally unexpected turn and (… wait, what am I reading again?); it’s a hat on a peg in a dark corridor…
It’s the point where it’s hard to tell where the plot is heading – though who’s to say if we’ll ever really know. The world can be a very mystifying setting, and the journey an unpredictable narrative, where mysteries unfold and anything can happen.
It was in this mystical realm that I attempted the unthinkable… to step away from all structure and certainty, and fervently take on the unknown beast, leaving all future possibilities to fate’s mischievous disposition.
It’s a little bit like life-noir. I’m walking the streets of San Francisco as a dark misty fog starts rolling in around me, and somewhere Dick Tracy’s voice is saying:
It’s a big world you know… I was beginning to wonder, what was I waiting for? A nice, safe desk?
And there I am, in my trench coat and fedora, scanning the streets suspiciously for a sign. I’m searching for something that seems to be calling me through the fog. I can’t see it, but I know it’s out there, waiting for me to make it through the dubious forecast and into my future.
In this business there’s only one law you gotta follow… Do it first, do it yourself, and keep on doing it.
The Writes of Passage 