| My Italian Vacation has come to an end. I have had three wonderful weeks of touring baroque villages, medieval castles and Romanesque cathedrals, of eating and drinking my weight in pizza, pasta and red wine, and of watching a seemingly endless promenade of handsome olive-skinned men, each one more beautiful than the last. But, this trip has not been without its share of challenges, especially as I tried to make my way home across the Atlantic over the last few days. After the much anticipated recovery of my precious passport, fifteen grueling hours of travel, the loss of three suitcases and a few hours of badly needed sleep, I find myself transported back into the 21st century, sitting in front of my computer, trying to reconnect with all that once seemed normal. In a surreal, sparkling, half-dream state, I am perched at my keyboard, attempting, once again, to iron out my mental wrinkles by capturing my thoughts about my trip, Gabriel Byrne and this IT community. I apologize ahead of time if my words make no sense, I've slept so little in the past two days. My Mediterranean Odyssey was as much a mental journey as a physical one, an exercise in leaving behind the familiar comforts of my cushy, electronic, media-saturated American way of life. In spite of my noble attempts, I was only able to stay half-connected with this community from a smattering of Maltese cafes and Sicilian hotspots and I found the experience frustrating and disorienting at times. So much has happened on these boards in three weeks! As I was navigating my matchbox rental car up the narrow inclines of Taormina, new GB fan-sites were being created. While I was climbing up and down the stony steps of the cave-dwellings of Matera, several multi-part fictional serials were launched. As I sipped wine in the baroque piazzas of Lecce, as I gazed at the volcanic peak of Mt. Aetna, GB portraits were rendered, Season 2 petition letters created. In short, it appears the world of Gabriel Byrne adoration has been spinning like a top while I've been away. There are dozens of links to pursue, pictures to see, articles to read, and interviews to listen to. I am feeling strangely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of it all, like an alien from another planet, a curiously detached visitor, an outsider peering anxiously in. In my current jet-lagged stupor, I am asking myself, is this newfound detachment temporary fatigue or a permanent state of being? My time away was a wonderful respite from the grind of my hectic life but what lasting effect will it have on my adoration for this man and on my consuming need to immerse myself in him 24 hours a day? Was this vacation a temporary separation from the IT community or is this some great Universal Intervention, some spiritual version of a Gabriel Byrne Methadone program? Did it wrest the "byrning" syringe from my desperate, clutching grip and prevent me from metaphorically mainlining more of his molten lava mojo? Did it clap its cosmic hands over my ears and quiet the screaming song that is his siren? And is my newfound seat on the wagon of sobriety only temporary, will I fall further and harder now that I have returned to my normal life? Since I have had only six hours of sleep in the past two days, I am unable to answer these questions with any certainty right now. I am sure that I will be here reading, watching and posting when my head finally clears. And, I am happy to report that some things still seem normal. Upon my arrival last evening, I eagerly unwrapped my Touch of The Poet poster. He sits, for now, perched on my living room cabinet, with the boots, the white pants, the red jacket, legs splayed, fingers resting on his mouth, and that "come hither" look on his face. Yes, perhaps with sleep, I will be back to normal, since the beauty of that picture is certainly not lost on me. Perhaps I am not an alien after all. For now, its just good to be home. Peace, Out, Touched. |