All Eyes on Stage

While everyone in the neighborhood is out at the summer "Play in the Park" at Pleasant Valley, all is still. The bikes and tricycles lay abandoned, their slightly spinning wheels creak in tune with the crickets. And fireflies dance. I sit here and stare at the computer screen- wait, hope, and beg the 'muse' to foster her life in me. Is this scenario a metaphor for me-ness? While everyone else goes out to take in the play, 'The Fantastics' to me a vague grasping shadow of reality, I sit and absord the quiet of what is, as lonely and frightening as "it" is. People go to parties, normally. I don't go to parties unless I am forced. Once I am there I hafto force myself to leave the world of my thoughts to enter into the language of the spoken word. And its like tearing myself in half. Why theses pointless noises the people utter and moan. Yes, part of this avoidance of socail activity is pride I assume. Part of this is shame at the utter blank-ness of many people also labeling themselves as members of the human race. if we only thought about what we said OR DID...why is thought such a rare phenomenon? I suppose if I must be one of these sheep, being the black one isin't so bad...