October 1, 2009.
Kansas was so four years ago.
Sometimes, when darkness descends upon someone, then rises partway so that the ground fog has risen to overcast the sky, they feel as if that darkness was another life, or a movie they saw on Lifetime T.V.
I am one of those who are living their second life, if only to themselves. For 12 years, I lived in Kansas. Then, four years ago, the whirlwind came and swept away everything I knew, and dropped me rudely in Oz. Since then, I've been following the yellow brick road- and it's a long motherfucker. I'm always looking back in fear, anticipating the arrival of the Lions and Tigers and Bears out of that magical forest. Oh my.
Walking this long-ass yellow brick road is almost as bad as staying in Kansas; it just has a better ending. Hopefully. What was it that famous writer said? "Hope springs eternal from the human tits." And so it does. Do I regret that whirlwind sweeping me away? Sometimes. Those are the times I find myself wondering What happy bastard had the time to lay all these cheery fucking bricks down anyway?
One day soon, I'll reach that green castle. Then that great god Oz will banish all those Lions and Tigers and Bears, banish those fuckers straight to hell. And then he'll say to me "Girl, get on yo' damn shoes an' clack those heels!" Then I'll do it 3 times and those Kansas skeletons will disappear to the fucking closet, the only grave they'll ever know.
But everything decomposes slower in Kansas; those skeletons are lively as ever, and those fuckers never seem to want to lay down and die. Indeed, they're lively enough to rattle the closet door handle late at night, as if to remind me that, even though I escaped to Oz this time, that Kansas will be waiting for me in the next life.
Sometimes I want to turn to whomever is next to me and say, "Daahlin' I don't believe we're in Kansas anymore." Sometimes, I just wanna grab some popcorn and watch how it all turns out. But mostly, I wanna keep walking this damned road, and see when it's gonna end.
Personally, I think the story of Oz is metaphorical. I think that Dorothy had some issues, and that she did something to escape them. then life after that seemed surreal and wonderful to her, as surreal as munchkins and good witches and big green castles. And if this is the case, then Dorothy was either a great poet, or she was on some heavy drugs (or maybe a little of both). But in the case of her metaphor, I watch her get swept away, and just nod. I do believe that Dorothy and I would have, if not gotten along, at least understood each other very well.
I also believe that if Dorothy's story was for an adult audience, it would be marginally less magical. There's hardly any magic in a place like Kansas.