as if i knew how to tread water

Comfort & security, when entwined & dependent upon factors outside your own sphere of control, can be exhausting. They have this duality to them which is distressing; On one hand it is great to find comfort/security in something outside of yourself (a relationship being the most apt example), while on the other this leaves you open & venerable (there is a better word for it) which can be anathema to independent, self-willed sphincters like myself.
While to say I'm secure is stretching the definitions of that word (I'm a bottom-feeder, baby), I couldn't be more comfortable - wherein lies the succinct dialema of being able to recognize the fine line between still putting forth effort & being so comfortable as to just ride the waves. It is lethargy due to comfort that is killer. Comfort can cause one to believe that since things are presently as fine as my '76 Mustang that they are just gonna stay that way. But baby, without the attention it deserves that '76 Mustang will be a rusted-out heep of scrap metal before I know it, sitting on blocks in the back yard, bird's nest clogging its exhaust pipe.

26 hours later...

I started this entry in a new journal I bought a few days back. The pages are still crisp & fresh, the cover still has that soft, sweet smell of leather. I was sitting on my girlfriend's porch, inhaling deep the moist greenblue air, underneath the porch light, an occasional shadow cast over the page by a moth's random, zig-zag flight. Now I'm at home, stale, cigarette stained air filling my lungs, the only light my monitor, this little screen attempting to saturate & dispell the dark of this empty living room. This little screen attempting to illuminate & help guide me back towards whatever destination I had originally been headed with the previous paragraph. My failure to discover my intent with the previous discourse on comfort relates directly to it. Comfort, that is. This change of place, this change of media. I just hope that staring at this monitor for so long now in a dark room hasn't burnt a permanent image of this blog onto my retina, there for me to read again & again as I try to fall asleep, which is exactly where I should be, where my greatest comfort lies waiting for me, her love warm & giving.