And...The Flowers...Are Still...Standing

You gotta love Ghostbusters. Bill Murray at his apex of
comic genius, Aykroyd doing his best fast-talking nerd role
of all time and Harold Ramis as the weirdest geek you've
ever known. I chose that line for the opening title of my
journal because it is not only a line from Ghostbusters but
it represents something. When Bill Murray (or, to the
enlightened, Dr. Peter Venkman) yanks the table cloth off
of a table in a high-class ballroom in Upper Manhattan,
crashing every plate, utensil and glass to the floor in a
deafening smash, and leaves the flowers to stand on their
own in a sea of brokenness, it is a seed of something.
Though it is a comedy, I guess I can find the seriousness
in just about anything meant to be funny, and I suppose
that for so long I've been doing just that; taking every
instance in life all too seriously and driving myself near
irreparable in the process. It's like...sitting here on this
bus (that cost me $124 for a round trip ticket) I feel a sort
of awkward distance, and in some ways, I feel way more
frightened of 'what might happen' than I ever have, but in
another stranger way...as the glasses and plates are falling
down everywhere in my life...the flowers are somehow
still standing. I guess I feel...hope. But we'll see if this
actually pans out as truth. Time to run over to the
Publix for some of those white powdery donuts. We only
have so long on pitstops. I'll write again soon.

-N

for hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and I hope that this finds you well.