False starts. Water under life’s bridge. So then, a little more dipping into my personal archaeology. My very soggy personal archaeology. I do dig the bit about the old guy and the wandering eye and the pine cones, though. Circa 2004, maybe. Medlum Come Home The faded red Pinto sputtered to a halt in the dry worn tracks …
Trending shopworn rumors of declineall that thrives within this tetheringgray, seeding serpentine vines of invasivedecay, threaded through veins ofa retiring mind, curlingoutward from glassed eyes embracinglyblind. I have begged youagain, once more and againtell me where we are, friend in this slagheap of men that suck this hardhusk of Earth, like it still has its milk, likewe might yet arise, …
It is indeed a very Black Friday. I have already this morning beaten a man to within an inch of his life with a broken tire from someone’s abandoned shopping cart after the fool came between me and this store’s last FurReal Friends Get Up and GoGo My Walkin’ Pup, though the wretched toy was unboxed, covered in …
So, you find things. And you know you should be doing other than looking, like seeking gainful employment or curing a major disease using only an assortment of stray household items. You know that, sure. But instead … instead you go bumbling around your haphazard past, turning over this stone or that, forgetting to watch for hibernating …
It’s Friday, and I managed to dodge the strafing gunfire from the fighter jets flying low above the cityscape horizon, as I made my way into work this morning. The guy in the SUV in front of me, not so lucky, and only my keen driving skills kept me from colliding with the flaming heap …
It is Wednesday, one of those weekdays that started off the same as ever, feet to floor, then chore after chore, in my morning march to be out the front door, etc. Yet almost immediately, things began careening off the rails. By an hour into it, I was already running 20 minutes behind, increasingly addled, …
It is Thursday. And it is Friday. And it is Thursday. And it is Friday. So much confusion, with just the day alone! And so, the quest for enlightenment, today, as every day, but obviously even more fundamental in the midst of this workweek calendar conundrum. Thus, to the mental carnival of unquiet that is …
It is Monday, the start of a holiday week ending in flash and bang and a weird mix of chest-thumping strut and standing around in the driveway with friends getting lit-up on ice-cold fizzy stuff masquerading as beer. And I will be out there doing the July 4 driveway dance myself, minus the faux suds …
It is Monday. And I am, as I’ve mentioned, attempting to meditate a little now every day, so that my Type A head doesn’t explode like something straight out of an old B horror movie. I am leaning in the Buddhist direction of meditation practice, though mostly just tipping over a lot, stranded then in …
It is Tuesday, and I attempted, this morning, a short meditation session; we Type-A fools and our trying to have our heads not explode, etc. So I’m sitting, not remotely in a lotus position, just cross-legged, my back up against the front of the couch. And I’m lousy yet for meditation, with all the thoughts just …