‘Twas in another lifetime one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue, the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness a creature void of form
And if I pass this way again you can rest assured
I’ll always do my best for her on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death and men who are fighting to be warm
Not a word was spoke between us there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved
Try imagining a place where it’s always safe and warm
I was burned out from exhaustion buried in the hail
Poisoned in the bushes and blown out on the trail
Hunted like a crocodile ravaged in the corn
Suddenly I turned around and she was standing there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns
Now there’s a wall between us something there’s been lost
I took too much for granted, I got my signals crossed
Just to think that it all began on an uneventful morn
Well the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much it’s doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker he blows a futile horn
I’ve heard newborn babies wailing like a mourning dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love
Do I understand your question man, is it hopeless and forlorn?
In a little hilltop village they gambled for my clothes
I bargained for salvation and she gave me a lethal dose
I offered up my innocence, I got repaid with scorn
Well I’m living in a foreign country but I’m bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor’s edge someday I’ll make it mine
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born
Shelter was among the toughest to write, and most heavily revised, chapters in the story. As with the other emotional turning points (Grim Anniversaries, Welcome to Bizzarro World, Party Out of Bounds, and others), coming to terms with my emotional state, motivation, and moments of weakness at the time came to me slowly.
In Poisoning the Well, the voice I heard that was my own was among the more surreal happenings of my life. The voice was whispering, albeit with a firm tone, and I could feel what seemed like the breath of the whisper on my ear, as if some angel, or spirit, or God Himself interceded. I’ll never forget it. The voice was so clear.
The penultimate paragraph of Gulag Confessions, while applicable to the scene with Claire, where I talk about my difficulty in expressing feelings, was originally discussed in much greater detail at the end of Hierarchy of Needs, way back in Chapter 6, vis a vis Jane, and then was moved to Hard Reset (Chapter 10), vis a vis Vincent, but it didn’t work there, either. Then it didn’t work vis a vis Claire in Gulag Confessions, dammit. The details ended up sprinkled throughout Alexithymia (Chapter 25) and was among the final pieces I wrote.
I still haven’t figured out whether people don’t really express their feelings, or I’m doing it wrong – it’d be nice if someone would let me know.
Thank You Enjoy mirrors the scene at the end of Destination Unknown (Weather Radio) somewhat, e.g., ‘spiking the football.’ Although Vernon still lurks out there and PIP#2 remains a threat, I had avoided the knockout blow thanks to Claire and everyone in the office who appreciated the work the team and I were doing, describing what was really going on with the team and all of our hard work, saving my bacon in the process. “The story was about to change” foreshadows how not reacting (gray rocking) is no longer an option.
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