For the majority of the time, my weirdness stays within the confines of my mind
, not to be witnessed by the world around me. My job and my lifestyle
demand this, and for the most part, I am content to leave things that way. But there are a few channels in which that weirdness leaves my body, and I treasure these.
My hands write the weirdness in sloppy handwriting
on random sheets of note paper
I pull out of my desk, or type jumbled, confusing sentences into word processor
s that only make sense to me. These stay stashed away for the most part.
Every once in a while, a bit of weirdness comes free and is overheard
or seen by another "weird insider". This is followed by a hurricane
of weirdness and usually settles down into a friendship
No matter how many opportunities my environment
gives me to be weird, no matter who's around to see it or how often I choose to let it go, I will always be weird on the inside.
Now, pardon me while I go dance
with my duck
and my monkey
and hope that it rains sardine