stella Martinez contemplates

Elizabetta tells Juanita that I haven't posted a blog in two months because there is no trauma in my life to relate. Disparaging thought to think that my writing is a vent ... a cathartic act that purges the hemorraged heart so I can live to weep and record another day.... she's probably right in her assessment....but what better place to process the upheavels of one's life ... preferable to taking up residency on the couch of some shrink spending countless hours unwinding the spool of my malcontented thoughts. So, in keeping with Elizabetta's theory the headwinds are slamming at my trap door once again and I huddle in the cellar, holding tight so as not to become a sail, flying helter skelter into the eye of the storm. But amidst all the banging and white knuckle grip I keep wondering that maybe it is time to let go ... let it all fly and see where my wind whipped ass lands. A kid gets dragged to jail, another carries so much self doubt to fill Noah's ark six times over, one
child finds solace in oblivion, I live on a diet of finger nails and coffee, and Tomas keeps looking older. Yea, I think it's time.