I feel about as mean as a snake right now.

I want to hit someone.

I don’t much care who.

*

Sick of everything. Sick to death of it.

Not everything.

Just my little portion of it.

*

I know the world is stuffed full of goddamn wonders. I know it takes a paltry, flinty soul to mewl about petty unhappiness in the face of all that conflagration of blessings.

I know it.

*

As I’m rolling downhill in a hand-built go-cart, the wheels threating to clatter off at any moment, I continue to be amazed at the grinding mindlessness of the big machine, and yet enchanted beyond all reckoning at the pretty lights it throws off all the while.

I love it in the abstract and specific, but not in the personal. Or the other way around, I’m never sure.

*

I am consumed by the mechanisms at work on all scales.

*

I don’t know why I am continually shocked at my own small problems and continue to labor under the illusion that they matter or have significance.

*

I should delete all of this.

Every word of it.

***

Namaste, begrudgingly.

*

Not really.

Not begrudgingly.

*

I want you to be happy.

I want the universe to shower you with blessings.

*

Which it is already doing without ceasing.

*