Carving out a corner to post random crap.
Things that are good: not meant to be understood
Things that are bad: make us come back
Return to the turnstile with one eye on the sky
The other on the lie
Forget all that was taught
It was memorized for naught
Yesterday's pain and confusion become
Stepping Stones and Building Blocks
Now a quick look over the shoulder
Signal
Change
Lanes
In a galaxy far, far away (i.e.: in one of time's many iterations) I am 12. I watch a new hope unfold. It is bigger than the screen in front of me. It surrounds and drowns out all other thoughts. The picture starts over at high noon so no one is late and no one is early. I get home right when I should because I never left. All I have to do is be still as the last fold turns into the first story ever told. I listen once more with new eyes.
Really… what is the reason we do anything? Well, the above Thank You note is a hell of a fine one. Learn stuff. Do things. Make art. Pass on whatever you've learned along the way. Good. Bad. For All. For None. It worked for you. It didn't do a goddamn thing for me… Whatever. Swear it: SHARE IT! Why not? If you end up looking foolish, if you sound like a prat, you've struck a nerve. Keep digging at and pulling up and thoroughly examining those "coincidences" that you'd rather ignore…
Queen Mimi's so terribly surprised her devotees are trapped in the bubble she blew some seven years ago. She has crossed bridges and tossed pens but her followers are stuck on the same page as back then, condemned to read it over and over again. The message sinks in every time and deadens the sense so commonly found in children and dogs. It was never Mimi's plan to create a universe bigger than what could fit in her hat. Tidy, out-of-sight, and bereft of room for The Askers of Questions and The Much Better Read.
"I have moved on. Why haven't you?"
Thus spake Queen Mimi.
Marion kept clear of the Sleepwalkers. Not all of them tripped and stumbled and fell to the cold concrete to get back up and fall down again. Many of the Sleepwalkers dashed about at an unnatural speed. Fast or slow, Marion became nauseated when a Sleepwalker got too close. She was on a different frequency, a whole other level, than every man, woman, and child who populated her world. Animals were the only life forms that noticed, let alone understood Marion. Dogs and cats had the decency to ask about her day which was always appreciated. Marion never took for granted the kindness that only fur or feather or even scales offered.
"Oh my," Marion said to a blue Himalayan seated next to her on the bus, "don't you find there are so many distractions in our path that keep us from our true work?"
"I do," replied the cat as he eyed her from over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses. "To tear down the walls of illusion is not for kids, let me tell you. Rabbits, yes. But these blasted 'walkers? They are simply not up to the task. Their ineptitude places a great burden on the rest of us." Marion shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. She looked out the window just as the bus swerved to avoid a crater. Thick, heavy tires reduced something once organic into a series of crunchy popping sounds. Smoke billowed from the rubble of burned-out buildings. Grackles cackled as they descended upon a downed Sleepwalker. It was the corner hotdog vendor. Poor man, thought Marion. She returned her attention to her fellow commuter.
"Not fit at all, are they?"
You tell tales of every make and model because you must. If you don't, the earth will devour you like a pack of Nutty Bars made with love by Diminutive Deborah. Be the author of your own life. Write every day and/or night to gain insight. Right? The thing that takes up all the space in the middle of the room. You made it. A creation that came out of nowhere but slowly took root in the cordoned off area of which you are scared shitless: THE SUBCONSCIOUS MIND. So take heart, eat dessert, and don't let the SOBs get ya down. Hey, it's still art even if no one picks it up to lick it or kick it. Life goes on …
A. Power builds deep within my bones.
B. A future unfolds on a far-off continent.
C. There was never any reason to fear or doubt the course along which I roam.
All of the above are jumping-off points, but only one is the channel that doesn't fight against the tide.
Receive. Believe.
Static is intuition that hasn't learned to speak up.
Each reader a gift and time is priceless. My gratitude to you for reading this sentence. Our path crossed, a message transmitted and received. What fun to wonder where words end up when I put away the scratchpad. I'd venture a guess these scribbles remain responsive despite their micro-sized presence in the Mighty Blogosphere. I'm not here to shill, not here to thrill, and I won't tell you to be someone you're not. I've captured a moment, beautiful and ordinary, and hung it on the wall to share. There's not much more to it than that. Three cheers for the transience of daydreams!
was it done as a lark
or under a doctor's
supervision?
i just can't get past
the beginning.
you've left it blank.
maybe a placeholder
<INSERT USELESS WORDS>
would've been better
until you figured out
what to say.
i can wait.
i've got time.
go now in search of
your point of view.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 