I have dreamed a dream, but that dream is gone for me now

I am awake, and all too aware of that fact as it turns out.  My absence from this project is a mixture of neglect and self-indulgence.  As our life has done so many times before, we have turned outside to in and inside to out, we have reinvented what we call reality and I can hardly place my finger on how.  In the end, the "how" matters not.  The "when" is of even less significance.  It is those details found in the "what" that I find truly fascinating.  "What" have we become, "what" will come next, and "what" (in the hell) were we thinking? The highlights come so fast and furious these days that they seem to flicker like a strobe light flashing to a techno-pop beat.  Like some drug fueled hallucination, the colors are so vivid that my dilated pupils are having trouble adjusting to the light.  Through squinted eyes, I can see some vague outlines.  Some familiar themes.  Characters that look familiar even if only in silhouette.  It is time to come down, time to sober up.  The light show has ended, the crowds have gone home and the house lights have come up once more.  The fog machine has belched out its last cloud of ambiance and the empty beer bottles have found their way to the trash.  What is left behind is a reality that only Johnny Cash could capture in words more eloquent than my own.  Its time to settle down, settle in, and somehow find the middle.  Normal, for normalcy's sake . . . if there even is such a thing.  And so, as we now make this transition toward the mundane, I find myself reminded of where we have been by way of the odd flashback or two.  We have indulged, over-extended, glutted and gobbled our way back into American life.  Piles of debris give way to stacks of lumber and stacks of lumber give way to a home.  With this rebirth, I find myself in need of an outlet.  A place to jot it all down.  So, I will make the time.  I will pick up my paper and pen, unpack my easel and paints and get back to the work I left in pieces when we left those far and distant shores.  A year to recap and what a strange year indeed.  If you are willing, follow along.  If not, then go to hell . . . I am writing this shit down anyway.  Until next time.  Jack