So, the wild woman of borneo is in the hands of the holy rollers. They aim to cleanse her of her unholy urges, I guess.
It is a measure of our desperation that we are glad of her being there.
The best thing in the world to me is that she is alive and breathing and happy to see us. Starved for us, it seems like. After years of being the most hated and despised creatures alive, we are once again worthy of ....what? Her love? Her affection?
Yes. And yes.
I don't pretend to understand it. I am just grateful for it.
It is like drenching rain after a long dry spell.
All the pain, all the anger and worry and heartache. How lovely that it can all be pitched overboard in an instant.
And I'm talking about my pain here, not hers.
She's done me wrong a thousand different ways.
I don't give a good goddamn.
I will yet love her.
If it use us up, so be it.
Not that we will let her destroy us, not that. But would we spend ourselves on her? Of that, you can have no doubt.
There is nothing like salvation in this world. There is only the dogged determination to love, and to reach out, and to help, or try to, while there is yet breath in you.
You don't get to know if it helps or not.
You can only put your money down, or quit the table.
Today I was wondering if I am crazy because I think all the time about how crazy I am, or if that means I'm not crazy at all.
I have a sneaking suspicion about it.
And on a lame note, I hope that you will stop in and comment, although I am a poor sport about responding. I read them all and I love them all. I just feel a little stupid and shy about responding sometimes.
How about that?