It is not often that one returns to an old theme. But I suppose like a child, or an adult seeking to return to the comfort of a mother's embrace, it is a mark of human fullness to return to a well worn path. You have treaded this old path in your history, and perhaps this time, in retracing your steps, you might bring much more lumination to the darkened path you once took. If not, at least you do not falter in your steps, because you have walked them before.

Or I cannot create, but I can pretend to recreate by renewing the old and fashioning it into something different. (I have no idea what I am rambling on. It does not make sense right at this moment.)

I love this entry I wrote. I knew the depths I could plunge to. I knew the cruel female figure I am. The figure of madness: the maenad, the Dionysiac, frenzied, raging woman. The avenging angel. The real sound of fury from whence all my inspiration flowed. The destructive impulses, the evil that resides in me. The manipulation. I want to hurt and be hurt, because without pain, perhaps I cannot really live. The taste of the freshly punished spirit is where all flavour begins. You sink your teeth into the tender place between flesh and bone and howl at the sheer taste, the richness of blood you draw.

And yes, I am doing the next best thing to moving. A patchwork repair to dam the urge to run, to cower under a new alias.

***

This restlessness has been brought about by a spate of misfortunes. Stolen watches, mobile phones and purses. Too many knocks and bumps and accidents. A long string of influenza infections. A bad time overall.

Perhaps it is a cyclic thing. I have noticed the common paranoia moods that spurs me to run, to mask my trail, to shut this place down and begin anew.

Perhaps it is because Mage has recently decided to venture online too. And he is close enough to scent my online trail. Close enough to spot the tracks through the jungles of lush blooming blogs and journals. Perhaps.

Methinks I should not be such a do-gooder and show him my familiar web haunts.

***

Right now it is too cold to edit the words written above. My fingers are freezing, my brain hurts from too much sugar from some raspberry chocolate cheesecake. I don't feel literary, erudite or brainy at all. Bah. I should never had edited yesterday's entry and posted it today. It reads very out of place with the rest of the more commonplace ramblings.

Bah.