Up in Smoke

Two days away, not the result we hoped for, and the return environment negativity all too familiar.  Funny how the conversation ended with Cooper on literature and other word of mouth avenues absolutely failing to pass on the reality of experience when it comes to the hormonal rollercoaster of relationships.  The madness.  The non-logic.  The same old patterns, the same words and scenes brought back again and again, the inability to move on.  

But worst the failure of my own reaction to the predictable and recursive behavior.  The inability to remain above, not to be cut to the core, to see the frustration rise, to just let me without panic and trust in the morrow.

Should we even include the details of tonight’s Jazz Fest version, an aged Emmylou but spirited AA and good luck with the Bishops parking, only to return to a snoring, unwakeable partner, the smell of smoke and disappointment.  Where did I go wrong?  Leaving in the first place sadly.  Oh well.  Tomorrow Friday, let’s see how long before another page is turned.