The sun is not coming up unless we have both feet on the ground. Make bank NASA. Free the jail bait. Little kids are so cute, bringing in those sunrises again. The ephemeris of human organs dawns, as the stars cross their fingers and we uncross ours. Courage is an umbrella, so always do what scares you. I rode the tube to listen to accordion and clarinet jam, all the way to the end of the line, nobody waiting at home. Oh Lord, give Thankss for a lifetime.
Noticing the effects of Lockdown, we can poison ourselves. When we were Middle Agers, we were happy to make it much past 45. Sixty was considered old age. I think of the Greeks, drone strikes in Pakistan, and the bridge being built downtown. All we can do is practice. The mind’s eye doesn’t blink, leaving no space for ghosts or regrets. This morning, I woke up with patience, because, no longer fearing the device on the night table, I hit snooze until 5:23, with remorse.
The forest teachers don’t sound alarms. I just use mine to get back to di-fragging numbers. I tried to stop when I was diagnosed as mentally ill, but labeling is ridiculous. Biology is geometrical, and dreams move into sync with Her. Hood life gets beyond, to the real thing. Cultivating the happy dream is dissembling the glowing city. Visual graffiti is not the enemy. We waste time when we accept the stubble, the clean fair skin, the threat of immigration. Bite the apple, the peach and the pear or stay home and die. See those cute mutts? There is a bog at stake, tracking in the turf, all the way under my own bed sheets.
Last night I slept in clothes, which is rare. Normally, I layer on more blankets and sleep naked. Being available, a hot water bottle is all you need. People are planets. I am the star, sovereign in the sky, the sky gone without a trace. It’s been a while since I held hands with a kid, since that is forbidden for psychotherapists. To be able to fall asleep is becoming expert at merging spirit with touch. The more I search the web, the more poetic this shit gets. I’m insanely grateful. Please guide me, for tomorrow is Monday. Cheers to Shungite and warm turmeric water. We are dogs, not bees.
I found a teeshirt covered with dirt and dried rain arriving at the base of Mt. Monadnock yesterday. There, I threw the Buddha pupa from yesterday into a rectangular granite pool lush with stalky cotton flowers. Space opened the gap to repair the bridge. The turquoise statue, painted Catholic, splashed, facing the center of the planet, among the plants. All faiths have their place among those rocks. He is sitting, facing Tijuana, in essence, back to back with the big bronze shrine, of face to make when the spiral becomes a circle again, where history is made. Sentimentality closes the exchange, appreciating the closing at relinquishment of future versions of Sulli.
Religious singers are not bait. Sure, athiests and agnostics aren’t worth the bonds, but sexy bodies are easy to release here in the concrete jungle now. Spiritual teachers are each person grasping collectively the intention to prevent over-population. Morality is the initiative for what is really happening. Times of paranoia existed before, the Mahabaratta, (and what’s the other book?). Native scenarios model how to shift, the Russian pilgrimage to Alaska, the snake mounds, Mayan touchdown. I wonder what the priestesses talked about in those black and teal dungeons, when we decided enough is enough. Imagine having clear-cut all the trees with hungry mouths to feed. The males in society were trying their best, but women don’t have to try, over and over and over. Being transgender is a delusion of identifying with the ether body. We can be both body and mind, because sinking soul is rising. Men are women inside. No change.
Covid is an invitation to get fixed for ecological reasons. Stolen on a waning ship, I saw, through manipulation of libido. My real name already paid back everything, except for that Leaves of Grass book. I tried to loose it, but I still have bad karma and am prepared to make amends. When I gave up art, I received your gift. I know you, and I know the helpers, for I am no other, just the same. Friendship is the greatest joy of family life. Apologizing was the greatest joy of monasticism up to now. Picture landscapes.