Monday, monday

 

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“Looks like you’ve been missing a lot of work lately.”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve been missing it, Bob.”

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Time to gut more fish.

 

 

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Namaste.

 

 

 

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Sugar Sugar

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I like this site. I’m stealing like hell from it.

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Now I got skulls on the brain.

Ha.

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I painted this jacket yesterday.

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I like it.

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Now I want to do a hundred of them.

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That dinner last night was enjoyable. Sitting with my special lady friend, talking about all the new developments, man, drinking beverages, you know, uh, taking in all the various factors in play, listening to some creedence, uh, yeah. Yeah.

It was far out.

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My plan for retirement is to get sleeved off, grow a soul patch, hand build a motorcycle, and paint skulls on leather jackets.

I want to do this because of reasons.

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Namaste.

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Leaving Clyde

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I feel like Dante before Virgil showed up. Lost in the woods, assailed by three beasts.

Unable to find the straight way.

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I can’t stop gnawing on the bone of the world. I want to understand deep time and deep space. I want to stand on the shore of some ancient ocean and watch a band of early hominids gathered around a fire, tearing at the flesh of some great creature they have just killed. I want to see their dance and hear their victory songs. I want to watch dinosaurs roaming through a dark and unfamiliar wood.

Given the rarest gift, of life and intelligence and curiosity and wonder, I yet want more. A time machine, a spaceship, a jetpack, a submarine, and a team of scientists to explain things to me.

It’s okay to want these things. It’s in our nature. Desire. Greed for life. Even lichen wants to live, clinging to some hunk of granite, high on some cold, barren mountainside, nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to talk to.

Life wants to exist.

The key for me is to see all of the wild and forever lost past in the present world, and to see the seeds of the future there, too. Just like we are rolling along in the weeds at the far edge of the milky way, we are also at the very center of an infinite universe. In any infinite scale you are always at the very center, no matter where you find yourself. And if time and space are infinite, then this is true for us, right here, right now. And as much wonder and glory and strangeness that I’ll never get to see in our planet’s past, there’s just as much coming that I’ll miss, too.

But there’s just as much wonder and glory and strangeness going on right this second, right smack dab where I am now, where you are.

There hasn’t ever been anything or anywhere more strange or exicting or wonderful than this exact place and time.

I keep forgetting this and have to learn it again and again.

I am a poor student.

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weekend plans:

long walks with the dog, the wife, and the kaleb guy. or short ones, depending.

dinner at a fancypants Italian joint tonight on a hundred dollar gift certificate so woot.

maybe I can cook something good for Sunday supper.

I’d like to find Annals of The Former World at the smut bookstore and maybe I will.

cultivate gratitude and acceptance and keep my eyes open for everyday miracles.

try, try, try to really see the human beans around me.

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Namaste.

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Smokers

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Here I thought you all didn’t like me no more, but it was just something wrong with this post.

 

You couldn’t comment on it if you tried.

 

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I fixed that.

 

 

So, blaze away.

 

 

 

 

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Namaste.

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The Golden Mean

 

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Jesas, you holem hand blong mi.

 

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Rain falls all around our small house. Inside, dogs snore and art gets made. Diapers get changed and a baby gets rocked in his mother’s arms. Food in the pantry ready to get cooked up.

 

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All bad things are far away, nor will they find us today.

 

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Maybe it will be so.

 

 

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My sleep has been disturbed of late and I feel the effects of it. Sleepy all the time. I’m deaf as a post and half blind. I must be a hell of a thing to live with. The women just laugh at me, stumbling around, cruising by them, their questions hanging unaswered in the air.

I feel like a great bear coming out of hibernation. Or still in hibernation. Maybe I’ll turn into a butterfly. Hell, I don’t know.

 

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They hauled my neighbor off to jail this week. He’d been continuously molesting his children and torturing his wife. Been going on years and years. All this time I’d wave to him in the mornings on my way to work, my badge and gun on my hip.

My head up my ass, I guess.

 

It makes my soul darken.

 

*

 

 

There’s nothing for it.

 

 

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My isolative impulses are in full flower. I’d dig a damn moat if I could, is what.

 

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My troubles are but small, and my blessings are as numberless as the stars.

 

Nor have I forgotten it.

 

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Namaste.

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

The Vivian Girls At The Battle of Glavivicus with Boy Soldiers From the Fourth Infantry Under Their Command

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Rare wet collodion plate depicting scene from the Glandeco-Angelinian War Storm Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion, with Vivian Girls, boy soldiers, and winged Blengin.

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I was telling my daughter today about how every single atom that makes up her body was forged in the massive heat and energy of a star gone supernova. She set me straight.

 

“My atoms were forged in Mom’s body. Just like Kaleb’s atoms were forged in mine.”

 

Sometimes you have to know when to acknowledge you’re beat.

 

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Maybe it is the cold and the subsequent lack of sleep, but I feel pleasantly unmoored from my body and my brain right now. Drifting along in a kind of a fog, somewhat dreamy, somewhat addle-brainded, all left feet and thumbs. But a little grin on my face, just maybe. My feet don’t quite make it all the way to the ground.

 

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If there has been a cuter babyman than this guy, well, I’ll eat my hat.

 

Kaleb. Aged three mos.

 

Or as we call him, “Dear Leader.”

 

*

 

Hook, line, sinker.

 

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I am making lentil tacos with chipotles and charred corn tortillas for dinner. The first solid food for three days.

 

Woot.

 

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This blog is now officially for the over fifty crowd.

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Namaste.

 

 

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Flight School

 

 

 

 

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I have a cold.

 

You should picture me in the kitchen, knife in hand, pot simmering on the O’Keefe & Merrritt. Drink in hand.

 

For the medicine in it.

 

 

Chinese Hot & Sour Soup. Chipotle black bean soup. Miso soup with ramen noodles and garlic. Garlic and Ginger soup with garden greens and lemon.

 

Vernor’s ginger soda.

 

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Okay, the Chipotle Black bean soup was actually purchased while we roamed the farmer’s market looking for greens and eggs and stuff.

 

It hit the spot.

 

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I don’t have the energy to post anything on the food blog. But if you want to try that Hot and Sour soup, you should head on over there. It is a damn good soup when you are feeling poorly.

 

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I’m a big baby when I get sick.

 

Most of the rest of the time, too.

 

 

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Namaste.

 

 

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The Creature In The Garden Tore Him Apart

 

 

 

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Namaste.

 

 

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