Down in the Valley

I wish I was a slave to an age-old trade, like riding around on railcars and working long days - The Head and the Heart I've been feeling unsettled lately. My parents spend a lot of time talking about dying, independently, and in different states. My father's stepson wants his Rolex, possibly more than he wants a stepdad. It's kind of gross. At my mom's house, I know where all the papers are and that it's likely that the two cats who aren't currently dying unspecifically and I will all live in the house together if nothing about the life I'm living now has changed significantly when my mom is no longer living there. I have a job I like for the first time in a while, and I'm getting creative again, but I'm still mostly lethargic. The people around me have life events, markings of the passage of time, and I have a lot of debt and only a little bit of a social life. My favorite professor died, and I feel unmoored by my lack of accomplishment. Maybe there's poetry left in me yet, or maybe prose, or maybe art. Little 'a' art, but still. At the very least, I hope there's something worth exploring. I am on my way, I am on my way, I am on my way back to where I started. California, Oklahoma, and all the the places I ain't ever been to... these are the places I will always go - The Head and the Heart