Watch “Pink Floyd – On The Run” & here me wax-on poetic/s.

No rights, just pure homage

to the first electronica/synth jam i ever heard in my entire life.

At least as far back as i can speculatively conjecture.

I was around age 5.

The daydreams i could and can enliven when actively listening to this cut

border on the absurd;

but, when carrying a double edged sword, Damocles, the most important

point/e/

To remember is: it has two sharp sides.

And, Damocles, apparently it hangs directly above you.

Observation only.

Already working on ambidexterity?

Genius it is to observe this track sidling itself betwixt the tracks finding themselves apposite ampersand opposite.

Facing each other as well as arching, in honest, desperate, curiosity.

(i.e. it plays well b/w the two songs between which it falls.)

A valley between twin peaks

Which can also serve us as a

Ladder-Alice

Uses from time to time.

Love it much. Dig.

Giggle.

Welcome to another lunar side, i suppose.

Treat yourself.

Listen to it cans on and try to discern the voices.

Heady.

De-laced in the Forest: A short, interesting jaunt.

My hiking boots (both members of the pair) suffer split laces.

They lace up through eyelets.  It takes a toll on the strings to pull the tops taut.

They have a lot of character.

This is why I resist swapping them out.

An old friend even nabbed me a pair of replacement laces.

 

The boot (right one) lace finally snapped such that the lace was too short to even serve its function.

This occurred before I set out today.  As I tied my shoes.

I thought: I could replace the lace.

I then thought: meh, just make do and get on with the walking.

That is what I did.

 

The makeshift knot did not stay tied. I stop and retie one way.

The then makeshift knot did not stay tied.

So, I just got on with walking with an untied shoe.

Stubborn. Giggle.

I hit the trail head.

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A tree snapped overnight.

It lays splayed with a bayonet.

I realize that if I walk with my right foot to the very edge of the right side of the trail, the lace will flop through the soft grass instead of dancing and bobbing in bounces upon the paved trail.

Heuristic.

My attention is hooked and I relish the realization.

Despite its silly, triviality.

And, I do not feel silly or bad for the momentary smile that spreads over my face.

But, then I realize, the walking has not occurred.

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You can see the bench upon which I stop as I head back,

to consider the lace.

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I rip the wearied threads until only the still enstrengthened portion remains.

It changes the pressure supporting my right foot.

I enjoy the feeling and shift on the way home.

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Suppose it is time to replace the laces.

But who knows?

Watch “Muttley laugh-mix” on YouTube

I think this is cartoon me when i am by myself and something hilarious runs through what passes for my mind these days. This happens a lot.

Gotta modulate the volume of laughter for my neighbors’ sake. And, ya know, laughing aloud alone does give unfunny folks the creeps, perhaps.

Shake it out of the shoulders, close the throat to get less-resonant and wheeze a bit.

Feels nearly as good as belly laughing.

Giggle snort.

What she said

“I bet you do,” she said.

Catchling you are; because you run, to be caught, from those chasing you, ewe.

Linearity asymmetrical.

Askew. Ask you.

A queue already asking (for) you.

You said that.

Asking, “Who knew”

Assemble-ation

The sudden feel of shame

Fumbled when said aloud became

‘Same.’

I smell summer sweat accrue under my satin camisole.

Howl at the sun during the day.

Then hum until dusk.

They change and are yelling.

Hurts good and proper.

When did solving a jigsaw puzzle become seen as lethal?

Just bits of cardboard already sawed apart.

Re-assembling.

From the Readings of CHUANG TZU

Moral: the more you pile up ethical

principles

And duties and obligations

To bring everyone in line

The more you gather LOOT

For a thief like Khang.

By ethical argument

And moral principal

The greatest crimes are eventually shown

To have been necessary, and, in fact,

A signal benefit

To mankind.

Slapped By The Sun in the Forest

The sun shocks the forest today.

What looks like white flowers turn out to be hard rays of light slapping against the greenery.

Just dots of rays slicing through.

Strange yellows descend into the green haze.  White Light.

Heat of the summer begins.

 

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Before

(The shaded stele.)

After

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Someone wore a white sox.

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Bugging flowers.

Buzzing flies and humming bees.

Hiss and Hush

and you can creep right up and observe.

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Who went here? I w/o/ander.

The visual heat of the light makes it easier to see a thing by the shadow it is

casting.

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Roots reaching.

Balling out and into.20190611_1143126097203433938437498.jpg

Creating

A lee.

Shelter and cover.

Shade being thrown over you.20190611_1143295143255687532570050.jpg

The cottonwood graces those spiderwebs which are so finely spun they are only indicated by the cottonwood snow.

20190611_1158314281302606273804539.jpg20190611_1159115305525495615399612.jpg

Flight caught from above and below.

 

A containment of water.

A o O 0

A circle almost completed.

20190611_1154238577041647376243179.jpg20190611_1153232306222881010310291.jpg

Ferns shade a shallow empoolment of liquid.

The evaporation will be affected.

Effect of dissipating one state of matter

into

another one.

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Water Moving.

 

Water Still.

20190611_1130001489889810253775414.jpg

Re-

fleck-

ting.20190611_1130525249225905770649695.jpg

A very tiny rabbit hole, unless you are tiny.

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Light falling on water

Hidden in the corner.

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Glassy separation not frozen.

Inching.

To the edge.

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These are the chambers.

There are levels.

Of a ladder.

Alice says.

20190611_114454156824820345452602.jpg

Four out of five days a new mole surfaced only to fall asleep

Again.

Again.

Again.

Not-again.

Again.

 

Simoon

The vortex belongs to a dust devil

Driving itself across scorched earth.

A man’s head covered in a vermillion tar-bush

Foot-pressed to its state by a wo/man in love with him.

This is the kind of love that enabled

The second exodus.

Washing and care instructions:

Love materials before wearing.

It does seems delightfully inane

It does not make sense, giggle.

As much as it does not make sense to…

…ask if the metric is true & the imperial system/s fake.

If the Cartesian (Descartes had strange experiences with letters on a train) coordinates are true and the polar coordinate systems of geometry that are non-Cartesian are false.

One geometry can not be truer than another geometry.

It (one over the other) can only be more convenient.

AND

There is nothing wrong with a bit of convenience.

Fie While Effie Rages

All you are is a one, signifying a specific

attribution

You are what came before while also what

will be.

But, ‘you’ now is a virtual reality.

You came from Australopithecus or else some PAST ERECTUS.

A sapien is, in sum, a predecessor

pantheon.

Fie grinded with rage.

“I hate you and your face. I hate your ears. I hate all sound.”*

*of course, all anyone could make-out were strings of gashing, ferocious garbles spewing wildly from his lips.

 

 

“I already met Fie. Fie?”

Effie paged backwards through the notepad, until she found out where she had met Fie, as his two brothers, Foe ampersand Fum.

Effie’s Dream Notes

Effie keeps a notepad @ her bedside w/ the intention of recording her dreams while they are still fresh.  It was a challenge to remember about it when she first began. But, after nearly a decade, she did it involuntarily, it was a natural bodily function.

Like

Blinking.

She had to remind herself just as much as she had to remind her heart to beat.

She records whatever seems relevant in that boundary dynamic of sleepfulness and waking.

Unsleeping;

she does it w/o intending to do it. Reading back thru what she wrote, it was as tough as though

it came from a stranger’s pen

is some other than her own pen.

is not.

Many times, recently, her notes were statements of facts; assertions of knowledge gleamed from some ungnown authority. At first, it was always descriptions of the dream itself.

Now, it was only the revelations reaped in the dreamscape.

The most recent revelation.

Effie is Emory. Emory was Effie. That was before Effie graduated high-school

and Emory went to college.

Exceptional Notebook Nonsense: Install One.

ALL RULES HAVE EXCEPTIONS.

ALL RULES ARE EXCEPTIONAL.

ALL EXCEPTIONS MAKE THE RULE.

THE RULE WITHOUT EXCEPTION IS EXCEPTIONABLE.

[it is an exception to the starting rule

that all rules have exceptions]

You die a voodoo death because everyone else expects it of you.

The uncommon tragedy of the commons is that there is nothing anyone cares to do.

Contagions of group expectations afflict your field of view.

A cursed question put on you–

Would you die if no one

thought you would?

  Or, could.

Authority instructs you to confront mortality.

You are part of the totality,

but individually, you are

also, a triviality

What I may be is the value of a binary threshold function.

Insert the prefix ‘looking-‘

to ‘-glass house’.

Suddenly, and without warning (giggle-howl) a hypocrite becomes a stranger in a strange-land.

Forest Down: It snowed Cottonwood

Canary-ied.

A yellow monarch on

bloom flutters-by.

That is not random light, it is a worm

suspended by a satin string.

Spinning mid-air.

Center-stage

of the path.

Is that a good or a bad day for the creature?

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Hanging by a plant,

pint and a praeter-prayer.

20190610_1353217793017231221052583.jpg

One branch a’loosened. Snapped. Remaining.

The bark of a

tree’s tread. Rubber meeting road-air.

20190610_1354493353993447175440427.jpg

 

Veined loam.

20190610_135552700335058920421122.jpg Detritus.

20190610_1357071807595944389689316.jpg

Vitriol.

20190610_141227408657366652916527.jpg

A feather/s lost is no

clipped wing but

20190610_1403562653043736490728605.jpg

Bird might have gone

down-y.

I well-aged pair of companions.

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Purple seeps in.

20190610_1407316965910850677812207.jpg

Light hangs in

almost-rainbows.

20190610_1414085635831400349593856.jpg

Gone before you can even blink.

Driven snow around and on the ground.

Watch “Ocean Breathes Salty – Sun Kil Moon” on YouTube

No rights, just homage.

A real, little but sweet gut punch of a song.

The disempassioned but not resigned tone of the vocal.

The difference between saying

I don’t think so

&

I hope so.

Guess what this is?

This is a trashcan with pollen on it.

Pretty, no?

20190609_1129134184357777559608736.jpg

Unsheathed

And pitted.

Sheared.

20190609_113820950199205619692907.jpg

A dragonfly found dead, yet posed by nature.

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Before that, another’s wing was clipped.

It must not fly now, should it live.

A drag.

20190609_1150528820658498091245696.jpg

This is a w/hole in the ground from above.20190609_1210321448199682389025220.jpg

The above is actually a rotting tree, cut in half and lying  on its side.

 

You know what this is, right?20190609_1216431256102800120244640.jpg

Have you ever tried this?

Write something.

Wait.

Then,

read it and weep.

Giggle with me?

The forcefield is too big. ‘Cause, it used to have to be, possibly.

Not anyone’s fault.

We can always blame

No-One.

Or bang (bang).

During our REM dream states.

Not in the same environment ampersand; now, the forcefield is energetically askew and effing with the universal grid?

How ostensibly ego-centric to think so, no?  Yeah?

What?

Compassion for self.

Self-hatred was that wall that enabled self-preservation.

  1. i hated myself for hurting/you hate yourself for hurting;

i do not hate what hurt me/you do not hate what hurt you.

What hurt me (you) did/does not hate me

(you).

It is that silly and dumb to hear aloud from this fool.

How to answer the question: Can you truly say ‘no’?

Giggle.

Try to say what you mean when you answer that one.

 

Howl I

(can)

howl.

This is not deliberate confusion.

But, sure seems confusingly deliberate.

Rejoinder?

Indulgence relative. Just do not hurt people.

Three reasons I love a timely, kind laugh.

Apparently.

  1. see 1. above
  2. Authenticity under austerity becomes through sincerity                                           ?
  3. It is not that you pay for what you get; it is that you get what you pay* for.

 

 

*we ain’t just talking currency/wages, folks.

 

 

It is okay to admit you are enraged at a potentially outrageous situation.

Enrage is your ego yelling.

Outrage is your heart yelling.

Your heart only yells when others suffer too.

Being enraged and being outraged is possible.

Being enraged and ego-maniacal is possible.

What a drag….

….that i cannot get over myself until I admit that I cannot get over myself.

This is silent howling.

This is giggling.

This is authentic, at the least (

Right

exactly  now

). Are you over yourself already?

 

What are these sighs that I imagine?

Whose low end groan comes down the cans?

 

Speculation: A song that can end itself and not just fade out.

Humm.

Reel to Real

Transition equal

the changing of the

guard or the gourd?

Howl. Giggle.

Does this and that prove x, yet?

Did it hurt, ewe?

Tell me true.

Folks ain’t used to fools acting differently?

Do, do what you do.

I know. and

I do.

allow people to hear anew

Vessel unvasseled.

No game, no simple-tool, not an achievement

not religions.

Love in the key note of the tonic

of a practice of ecstasy.

 

Just breathe.

 

Method before theory, dummy.

Fear versus fright

on the fight or flight

that wilt be

pay-per-view

tonight.

 

Howl I smile.

New does not mean novel, dear.

Praise, you say?

What’s that like, I say?

I caw-ckle aloud but only inside.

Hun, if it is not a game then there is no

prize to win.

Just a desire to hunt and

that is regardless of the financial costs some

enobligate in self-defense.

I am fickle, am I?

I am love and love hated.

Loved hatred and hatred loved.

I submit that I am written.

Tolle lege.

The lesson is

it does not matter what

The lesson is

Don’t overlook the symbols.

I was taught we inherit the problems of a previous, now non-corporeal generation,

but, I don’t believe we can

blame ourselves for their

patterns within which we

now

find ourselves.

A carbonic processing of your pinot.

Noir.

Dark.

The guy in the corner?

A martial artist.

A soldier in disguise.

Blacklisted for the blackbelt earnt in logistics.

Written Whence Who Gnosis

Complete the sentence?

(di un corpu celestial) foscate a lumero da o (…)

 

Cadence and rhythm

Cadence and rhythm

Two things that remain

In my refrain

Time and time

Lost

again.