< doctor my eyes....

~tffb

Some weeks (months?) back I visited Google StreetView, Maps, Earth, etc. and I scrolled down the street I grew up on, and in front (when I lived there, 20 years ago) was a HUGE pine tree, and it was easily double the height of the house. Now, it is possibly triple that size. I'd climb it until I felt that the branches were too thin to support my weight, and get a great view of the 'burbs below, which was good, because our house was atop a hill.

Now, a religious fellow occupies the house. I have friends still in "the old hood", and they say when they see the dude coming/going from there, that he will always depart company with, "have a blessed day", and has some religious ephemera in the window.

It's a trip, seeing old places like that. I could never (re)visit the old town, because I would surely have some sort of psychological setback, and drudge up old (repressed) memories from wild days gone by.

I left that neighborhood (for good) when I was 18, and was taken for a psychiatric commitment by police officers after a complete meltdown of civility and sanity between me and some family members. I think I may have glanced back at the old place when the police vehicle was leaving, but is that last time I will ever see that structure (in person).

Strange, wild times. Indeed. Odd to think about.

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~inquiry wrote (thread):

I can't say I relate. A divorce was about the closest I've come to a short(er) burst of familial madness.

But I'm abundantly familiar with what might be called a "slow inner burn" along such lines.

But, then, who isn't? I mean, how could selves enamored of themselves to the point of "hell is other people" (Satre) bouncing off each other whilst pretending to communicate via words backed by private meanings possibly work?

Anyway... at the risk of seeming overly nosy, how come you've not shown up in the read.write.as feed in a while?