Today is the one year anniversary of my near-death drowning. I'm not sure how I feel about this; my heart and mind are all over the place. It seems like today is like a second birthday for me. There are no physical reminders of the accident; no scars or abrasions left. But clearly it is embedded in my psyche as much as a permanent physical reminder would be. Yesterday at a used bookstore, I happened across(in the graphic novel section, where you'll usually find me) a copy of The Wild Party that was illustrated by art spiegelman. I bought it and read it through last night before bed. It is a great poem, and worth reading if you haven't. As suggested by William Burroughs in the forward, this poem and its' images stay with you.
I'm not sure if today is for celebrating, and having a wild party; or for quietly enjoying the fact that I am alive and just having a normal day. I've had an amazing year, but still my soul battles; is this life for the wild party that we can get out of it? Do we live it up, drinking in every pleasure until the cops come in? Or is this life for a moderate cautious blend of simple pleasures and traditions?