The Authentic Eclectic

I Was Too Feral To Fit In

My humanity was still there, but buried deep

Image by author — all rights reserved

I’ve been here in Salt Lake city for about four months now. We’ve turned the page onto a new year — 1996. Winter is in full swing and it’s nothing short of spectacular. Snow falls sweetly and lands on its marks; in its perfect choreography, even the slush is clean.

I’m enjoying my solitude and the gentle routine of my new life.

In the Decompression Zone

There have been speed bumps. It’s like driving down a quiet street, alone in your own little world, oblivious to the signs warning of speed bumps ahead. You’re singing a happy tune, beating time on the steering wheel. Then you hit that first bump.

Ka-thunk-THUNK!

Airborne. What is happening?

THUD!

And — back on earth.

That’s been my life lately. Mostly sunny, with a chance of gnarly speed bumps.

The incubator of the unhinged