Searching for the heart of Saturday night, and lamenting I guess that life's been pretty decent for too long a time, with no jump spike aggrevation jumps or heartless indignity, no anger even.

Sad news for a boy who once sought redemption in twisting the twisted to a color off-blue, and hopeful. Now it's not hope, but here.

Through the glass the city sleeps. It's quiet enough for a crib in the street, and while I admit to mostly loving where I live, there's something brewing somewhere inside. I really really don't want to scream.

More usual I guess is the urge to scream, but not needing or wanting to scream, and feeling this very strongly, isn't the everyday.

Nor is it that remarkable, as I look around and reminisce on the easy days when things got my goat, and the material was good. Crying injustice or complaining with a fine-tuned tongue is too easy. I mean it'd be great to feel irreverant once in a while, to just slip on those "us & them" attitudes, and relax with a bit of barbed wire, with a belly full of fear.

Not so lucky these days, I guess. Things have been pretty terrific. As such, I'm left with writing like this.