heartbreak hotel

The weird thing about having a personal blog is not knowing just how personal to get. I mean, my relationship just fell apart, suddenly. But this isn’t the right forum to disect the depths of my devestation. Suffice to quote Joni Mitchell “I’m so hard to handle, I’m selfish and sad, and I’ve just gone and lost the best baby that I ever had. Oh I wish I had a river, that I could skate away on… I made my baby say goodbye.”
But rather than write about my heartache I’ve decided to play a game of make-believe. Here is the post that I would publish in my alternate universe:
“Greetings from the road! My planes, trains and automobiles adventure is well underway. Yesterday I hitched a ride from Des Moines to Deluth with a fading beauty queen and her reformed pirate beau in a 1976 Rolls Royce. What a hoot. I told the queen about the stone in my chest where my heart should be and she cried diamonds and gave me her Miss Midwest Dairy tiara. The pirate wiped her tears with his sash. I hope I see a bear up here, or at least the Northern Lights.
Last week, on the Tall Ship, I met a sailor with waves in his eyes. He showed me tenderness, but he was married to the sea, and I of course to the road. We shared a hammock under the stars; I described the forrests of my youth, he taught me the constellations. Now I can navigate in darkness.
My patron, Mme du Monde, has sent word that my play opened in London to mixed reviews. Perhaps I will rewrite the ending before the New York debut. Everybody wants a happy ending.
That’s all for now. I hope to travel East soon. I’ll hop a train, I suppose, or maybe I will walk. Tonight I played my guitar for a widow living above an abandoned department store. I will sleep in her arms. Deluth is even more that I imagined. Goodbye.”