Inspiration and the Moon

“Of course, in fairness, I must remind you of this: that we writers are the most lily-livered of all craftsmen. We expect more, for the most peewee efforts, than any other people.” ~ Brenda Ueland

“I have myself to face a world which is tragic without becoming tragic myself.” ~ E. M. Forster

“Then I grew up, and the beauty of succulent illusions fell away from me. The fibre of my mind coarsened and my eyes grew miserably keen. Life rose around my island like a sea, and presently I was swimming.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

The image above is of the Castaneda Hotel, in Las Vegas, New Mexico, before it was renovated. The drive between Taos and Las Vegas holds spectacular scenery, yet I haven’t been down there in years. Another of my favorite drives is through to Cimarron. Once again, years have passed since I’ve been there – back in 2012. But listen – this region of this state has many places of spectacular scenery. It’s one of the things I love about the place. But enough of the travelogue already. I’m just not feeling up to being inspired this morning, which usually means I’m about to be, in the near future. I’d love to see that happen, because these past few weeks have been ripe with mundane though important stuff: a new drug from a new doctor, arranging Medicare Advantage with Humana, visiting the carwash for the first time in quite some time. I don’t know. Whatever. Tomorrow is my monthly massage. That in and of itself can be a form of inspiration – the massage in always sorely needed, and the hour visiting with the therapist is always a joy. She and I get along quite well as we chat away over the drone of the ambient music in the background. Yeh, I think I’ll just have that be my inspiration upon this full Moon.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


Coffee and Moonlight

“Now that you’re an adult, you might still feel a pang of guilt when you decline a dinner invitation in favor of a good book. Or maybe you like to eat alone in restaurants and could do without the pitying looks from fellow diners. Or you’re told that you’re “in your head too much”, a phrase that’s often deployed against the quiet and cerebral.” ~ Susan Cain

“Extroverts are more likely to take a quick-and-dirty approach to problem-solving, trading accuracy for speed, making increasing numbers of mistakes as they go, and abandoning ship altogether when the problem seems too difficult or frustrating. Introverts think before they act, digest information thoroughly, stay on task longer, give up less easily, and work more accurately. Introverts and extroverts also direct their attention differently: if you leave them to their own devices, the introverts tend to sit around wondering about things, imagining things, recalling events from their past, and making plans for the future. The extroverts are more likely to focus on what’s happening around them. It’s as if extroverts are seeing “what is” while their introverted peers are asking “what if.” ~ Susan Cain

“Beware of those who don’t fight back. Sooner or later, they will.” ~ Joyce Rachelle

Good coffee and Moonlight. Time is playing with my head. It is easy to note that as I/we age time seems to run faster. Yet a paradox tickled me this morning when, while watching the Moonlight, I felt as if I hadn’t seen it in a very long time. No, I don’t care to speculate on this phenomenon, I’d rather just leave it be. Mystery has value, and not knowing is not a sin. It is one of those rare mornings when the cat spent very little time on my lap. It’s a break for me too – I can actually type unhindered. I’m enjoying the randomness of this morning, regardless of the fact that most of my mornings are pretty darned random to begin with. Watch my thoughts spin and tumble. Look at this headache as a feature, not a pain. It’s a mood, that’s all. And no way no how do I want to leave this solitude and go out into that speed-inebriated world today, but I must. I remember billboards back in the 70s that simply said “Speed Kills”. Just sayin’. Let’s just avoid the rant for today. I’ve a sweet feeling that is rather nestled in. Think I’ll leave it at that.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Braking Toward Stillness

“Sometimes people let the same problem make them miserable for years when they could just say, So what. That’s one of my favorite things to say. So what.”  ~ Andy Warhol

“The first step to the knowledge of the wonder and mystery of life is the recognition of the monstrous nature of the earthly human realm as well as its glory, the realization that this is just how it is and that it cannot and will not be changed. Those who think they know how the universe could have been had they created it, without pain, without sorrow, without time, without death, are unfit for illumination.” ~ Joseph Campbell

“Detachment means letting go and nonattachment means simply letting be.” ~ Stephen Levine

The photo is of the charming little Amtrak station in Lamy, New Mexico, just south of Santa Fe. I absolutely love that place. Many times I have boarded or detrained there. Both authentic and old, the place is way cool. Ya know, now that I think about it, the phrase “authentic and old” might come in handy before too long, as it would be a good reminder to my future self. No, don’t be concerned, I am actually handling this aging thing pretty darned well. Here at the threshold of Medicare I have no idea what to do about it. Except, maybe, to let go of my preconceptions about time. That would help with any proactive perspective shifts I might care to indulge. Proactive is likely the wrong word for it. I haven’t time to ponder it this morning. But it does seem worth noting that more progress – real progress – can often be made by braking toward stillness. Just sayin’. Hmmmm. Today is day six of my latest adventure into the realm of Prozac. The stuff is working. At the risk of maybe like contradicting something I might have said during these past 25 years – it is really crucial that I do not doubt my intuition, which reminds me frequently that depression has actual sources in the brain. It is not just a bad attitude. But I already knew that. Whatever. I’d best get out and look at the mountains and the ascent of the Sun behind them. Workday awaits. As usual, I don’t want to go. And as usual, I love it when I get there, and throughout the day, and . . .

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Neopagan and the Cheeseburger

“Often it isn’t the mountains ahead that wear you out, it’s the little pebble in your shoe.” ~ Muhammad Ali

“In all affairs it’s a healthy thing now and then to hang a question mark on the things you have long taken for granted.” ~ Bertrand Russell

“The key is the ability, whether innate or conditioned, to find the other side of the rote, the picayune, the meaningless, the repetitive, the pointlessly complex. To be, in a word, unborable … If you are immune to boredom, there is literally nothing you cannot accomplish.” ~ David Foster Wallace

It’s not gonna get done by itself. Laundry, that is. But I’m into it; more so than usual. Go figure. Somehow the image of a Florentine omelette and a Mimosa sounds good as well. Not my style, although I do have a fond memory of sitting at the dockside bar at the Lorelei in Islamorada, with Brother Phil, eating a cheeseburger for breakfast, washing it down with draft Budweiser. Looking out over Florida Bay! That done, Phil and I went on a rudderless bicycle ride around the island. How I miss that place, back then. As Phil woulda called it: just another point and place in time. Backwoods Maine wisdom, I reckon. Phil was from Bangor. He once told me that the horrors in Stephen King’s novels were quite real up yonder. I’m not so sure that stuff ain’t real everywhere – these days ya never really know. But Philip and I in cutoff jeans and well-worn t-shirts, bellies full, riding around aimlessly through paradise – that was quite real, and simply charming. Whatever. Earlier this morning, as I sat on the deck in the waning darkness, I heard a gunshot. Probably someone shooting at coyotes. I haven’t heard the coyotes in quite some time, but minutes after the gunshot a small chorus of howls arose from the sage fields, and I gently gasped. Such beauty! I hope no one got hurt. This coyote tale fits in well with my encounter with a long-hair black cat yesterday morning, just as I was going to work. The beast was emerging from the chicken coop when he spied me, and immediately went into vigilant stasis; just gazing. I was gazing too. We just stood there looking at each other, for perhaps a minute, before he skittered off. Wait, what? “Vigilant stasis”?! Let’s just say that I amuse myself sometimes. Anyway . . . as I was saying. Black cats have such stunning golden eyes. Transfixed is the word. From a neopagan POV I would say that Black Cat appeared to remind me that magic is afoot in the land, and I’d be well-advised to take a few sips of that magic. Yeh, I can be a neopagan today. As well as a panpsychic. The two fit together quite nicely. And on a Sunday. Where does Jesus fit into all this? I’m riding a big sigh of relief from something nice that happened yesterday so I will not wait until after laundry to partake of the magic. Ya gotta start somewhere, right?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Fire From Within

“Three things differentiate living from the soul versus living from ego only. They are: the ability to sense and learn new ways, the tenacity to ride a rough road, and the patience to deepen love over time. The ego, however, has a penchant and proclivity to avoid learning. Patience is not the ego’s strong suit. Enduring in relationship is not Raven’s forte. So it is not from the ever-changing ego that we love another, but rather from the wild soul.” ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estés

“Leap of Faith: Don’t let whatever’s behind you spook you into falling. Take as long as you need. Start small: each time you notice a shift, notice that you noticed, that your inner voice spoke, even if it was a whisper.” ~ Helen S. Rosenau

“I know to be patient when it comes to creating a piece of art. It’s not the outcome that matters: it’s the trying. I’ll only get better through failure. Because each time I fail, I learn and I change so that every time I get closer to creating what I see in my head.” ~ Carrie Arcos

Up late, slept late. When you have bipolar disorder you are not supposed to do that. Rest and sleep are essential to us all, but even more so the afflicted. I am still trying to see the bipolar condition as other than an affliction. That is not an easy call. As Elizabeth Wurtzel, who wrote “Prozac Nation”, suggested, I am trying to find a purpose in this illness, a function beyond torment and corrosion. It’s good to note that I am finally making headway in this quest, only because I have to. I’ve read some grueling stuff from great authors about depression: David Foster Wallace, Sylvia Plath, Elizabeth Wurtzel, Henry David Thoreau (it is subtle in his works), William Styron, William Least Heat Moon. It helps to read these works, but not for the socially assumed reason, that these people had it worse than I do. There is no proactive reason to view it that way. The differences between us and how we relate to the scourge are subjective at best, but there are insidious, objective, physical features as well. Some days I just want to submit the the slump reaction, to give in to gravity and ibuprofen. To give myself a break. Some folks say you should never stop fighting. I disagree. Sometimes ya just gotta let it all go. Any sense of purpose you might find in battle, by aggressively leaning in to an immoveable object, is going to reek of gentle violence eventually. I’m talking about mindfulness here, and not the friggin McMindfulness that is so trendy. Step back, breathe, reach out, breath, embrace, breathe, have mercy for yourself, breathe, friggin eat something already! And don’t forget to breathe between bites. Okay?! I don’t know what got me onto this topic this morning. Maybe it is the fresh batch of Prozac that is fixin’ to transform my neurotransmitters and all that fancy stuff. I’ve taken this drug before and both times it was a godsend. I expect no different now. The psychologist suggested that maybe we will add a beta-blocker eventually. That excites me on some level, because easing the travails of non-stop fight or flight symptoms (which beta-blockers do) seems like a no-brainer to me, and perhaps it is. The term “fight or flight” says it all, all of the adrenaline and cortisol, and . . . geez, stop fighting, don’t run, stand still and get a feel for what is happening, because you can’t heal what you don’t know. Yes, you will, if you stop fighting, have to deal with the fire from within, but you will risk only enhancing grace, and the eventual recovery of your personal power. Step back, breathe, reach out, breath, embrace, breathe, have mercy for yourself, breathe. Like that. I’d best get on to getting ready for the workday. I’ve had two days off and I slept a lot. Good on me.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Walk With the Ghosts of the Past

“I am halfway between two worlds, the known and the unknown. I feel as transparent as the wind, as if my spirit is hovering in the sky, waiting to land. I am driving toward a future I can’t see, leaving behind a past that already feels distant. Nothing is clear – and yet the trees are sharp against the sky; I can see the hard outlines of everything.” ~ Christina Baker Cline

“Last night I wept. I wept because the process by which I have become woman was painful. I wept because I was no longer a child with a child’s blind faith. I wept because my eyes were opened to reality.” ~ Anaïs Nin

If you were trapped in an impossible situation, in an unpleasant place, with people who meant you ill, and someone offered you a temporary escape, why wouldn’t you take it? And escapist fiction is just that: fiction that opens a door, shows the sunlight outside, gives you a place to go where you are in control, are with people you want to be with(and books are real places, make no mistake about that); and more importantly, during your escape, books can also give you knowledge about the world and your predicament, give you weapons, give you armour: real things you can take back into your prison. Skills and knowledge and tools you can use to escape for real.“ ~ Neil Gaiman

Big sigh. Yesterday was a free day; lots of sleep. I wouldn’t have it any other way. And dreams. None of which do I remember at all, except for feelings. Frustration mostly. Watched a lot of news, panels, commentaries, whatever. I know full well why I do that, regardless of the consternation it brings. So, here’s the thing: Woodstock, Moon landing. We can do better than this . . . this . . . this modern nightmare. The president of these here United States seems to be a Lovecraft monster, all tentacles, slime, and dark visions. And what about music? For some reason I am occasionally subjected to modern pop music. We can do better than this, except maybe for Taylor Swift. Don’t even start with me, k? The woman is a marvel. And I’d love to have lunch with her someday. But I fully believe that if they would loosen up the friggin algorithm slash demographics slash retreads of old songs there could be a second renaissance of rich new music. In addition, I am anxiously awaiting disclosure of the reality of UFOs. The military is on to it. Come on guys and gals, share watcha know. However much this revelation might scare the bejezzus outta society it couldn’t be scarier than this reality show dimwit that tries to run our country. We could use a major shaking up that is a fair piece more positive than the “mean girls” white men who hem and haw to cover up their crimes and sins. They refuse to consider that if they would just choose the Beatitudes instead of Yahweh thunder and cruelty they just might find that they don’t friggin have to control the populace through intimidation and skeevy covert manipulation. Yes, love is the answer, but somebody gotta do the dishes. Hey. Wait just a darned minute now. I am ranting here, ain’t I? Think I will wrap it up and see what the day brings; cruise with Flow consciousness. That sort of thing. I’d rather be on a riverboat with Captain Twain. Or go count beans at Walden Pond with Uncle Henry. Maybe I will catch a good movie on Netflix instead. I’ve noticed that a lot of the stuff on Netflix has to do with the supernatural. Witches, werewolves, ghosts, and demons. Today I walk with the ghosts of the past, in the Spirit of Woodstock. Queue the music.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Walk on a Slippery Rock

“When someone is cruel, harsh, mean, to not take their words personally is one thing, but to hear the silent cry within those words is another. This sort of perspective can not only liberate us from crippling self-doubt in the face of criticism, it can also liberate us from automatically becoming blind participants in the interaction patterns that the cruel person has become accustomed to—a favour we do for the other person as much as for ourselves.” ~ Vironika Tugaleva

“Whereas moral courage is the righting of wrongs, creative courage, in contrast, is the discovering of new forms, new symbols, new patterns on which a new society can be built.” ~ Rollo May

“Discovering the threads that constitute actual interactions is an essential means of making sense of the world. But perception of overall patterns of things that are contextually related is equally important.” ~ Richard J. Borden

Sleepy morning. First light is rising, but I may not rise for a while. The chair seems to want me here. The first of two days off should be teeming with ideas of how to most proactively make use of the time, but there ain’t no teeming going on here, more like a festival of groans. A lone turtledove just breached the silence with the first bird call of the day. Alexa tells me it is currently 59º. Yesterday was beastly hot. Good napping weather but I had to work. No one can keep me from a nap today, with cat at my side, keeping the brujas at bay. As far as I can tell the heightened activity for me, for the past month or so, is ratcheting down. Lucky me. Sure, I got a lot done. I’m tempted to go all philosophical but I won’t. At least I don’t . . . oh, never mind. Que sera, sera. As Edie Brickell sang “Philosophy – is a walk on a slippery rock. Religion – is a smile on a dog”.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

A Golden Aura Along the Summits

“I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was shadow in bureau drawers and closets and suitcases, and shadow under houses and trees and stones, and shadow at the back of people’s eyes and smiles, and shadow, miles and miles and miles of it, on the night side of the earth.” ~ Sylvia Plath

“That is all I want in life: for this pain to seem purposeful.” ~ Elizabeth Wurtzel

“Don’t try to solve serious matters in the middle of the night.” ~ Philip K. Dick

“He who hears the rippling of rivers in these degenerate days will not utterly despair.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

I went to see the psychologist yesterday; Doctor fella, funny guy too. He laughed a lot. And he can prescribe drugs – and analogies. I’ve been actively depressed since November and he wants us to team up and see if we can “throttle down” my brain. Something, maybe, about my pre-frontal cortex, which took a profound blow when my face hit the handlebars of my bicycle back in 1984. This current depression has not been the knock down drag out kind, though there have been numerous times when it felt like it was going there, for a few hours, maybe forever, but this mid-grade downer I am not without resilience. Lucky me. When those hours occur I like to find something intellectual to read. Pulls me ever so gently back into the borderlands of rationality. It is mysterious and puzzling at those times when rationality and irrationality become yin yang pals and just hang out together. And I watch from the sidelines, not dissociated, just stepping out to get some fresh air, to catch my breath, to mutter a few WTFs for my own amusement. There are times when I can actually dissociate on purpose. That is never a good idea so I don’t. Not anymore. Back in the first few years after the accident, during the initial phase of unknown recovery from the brain trauma, I instinctively developed the skill as a coping mechanism. The reason I call it “unknown” recovery is that one doctor at Jackson Memorial Trauma Center flat out told me that there wasn’t any neurological damage. Friggin nitwit. I don’t remember anyone else much caring either. I was pretty much on my own. Even if I had been able to articulate what was going on, I am cold-certain that nobody would have listened anyway. Shit like that scares the bejezzes outta peeps! And never mind that I was having mystical experiences as well. Who wants to hang out with a guy like that?

“The conflict between the will to deny horrible events and the will to proclaim them aloud is the central dialectic of psychological trauma.” ~ Judith Lewis Herman

Between the first paragraph and this I got some sleep. Not long enough, but it seems to have worked anyway. The coffee is perfect, what I call ex-wife coffee – strong, bitter, and dark. That’s the way she liked her coffee and I was of the Folgers crowd. She introduced me to many things that changed my life. I still to this day drink my coffee this way. Yum. I’ve been missing her lately. It’s been nearly 30 years since I last saw her; 40 since the divorce. There is healing going on. That much I can say. I just walked out to the car, where I can see the mountains. It’s cold here in the morning shadow sent forth by the Sangre de Cristo range. A golden aura lines the summits of all mountains in sight. I couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the eye or an actual optical phenomenon. Not that it matters. Still, I may look for that golden aura anyway as I go through my workday. Light shining around shadows in this world. It’s hard for me to explain why I call physical objects, including people, shadows. I’ve been this way, seen this way, ever since the accident, which also involved an NDE journey. My feeling this way, this morning, almost feels objective rather than subjective. I’m not used to this, not since last November when this lengthy bout of depression first expressed. I wrote, quite carefully, the first paragraph last night, with talk show/news panels analysts yammering about in the background. It is unusual for me to write at night. Maybe it’s the Prozac. That’s what Dr. Mash prescribed to “throttle down” my brain. It seems to be working. In theory it takes 10-14 days for this drug to take effect, but I remember the first time I took it. Although the full effect ran in the 10-14 parameters I could feel it right away, within a few hours of swallowing the first pill. Doc calls this a “baby dose”. Micro-dosing is quite trendy these days, although the term is usually applied to cannabis, shrooms, and LSD. I feel good to be taking this. I know countless people who express disdain toward pharmaceuticals in general, but even more so toward SSRI chemicals. I know from experience that Prozac works. I could use it again right now. Sigh. SSRIs allow the body to use more of the serotonin that we naturally produce. One thing about depression is that it seems to encourage the body to suck up most the serotonin as soon as it gets into the bloodstream. Serotonin helps to regulate between light and the shadows. I believe it is a consciousness-raising substance as well. Well, maybe not raising. Depression, for me, is like a manhole cover, and I just got stuck below for a few months. It’s not that simple, of course. I have a therapy session this afternoon at 4 PM. My therapist is an old colleague of Dr. Mash. I will tell her about what all doc and I talked about. Then will will likely go into the Jungian Shadow stuff; like what this all means on a semiotic level. No, serotonin doesn’t raise my consciousness. Boy howdy the time spent in this lengthy down-cycle provides ample and fecund opportunity to raise consciousness. But you have to do something other than laze around like a lump. What I need to do right now is grab a quick shower, which means that I need to resist the time warp vortex in the shower stall; that which tends to keep me under the hot spray, where what seems like ten minutes is actually about 30. Whatever.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

A Good Dose of Providence

“C. S. Lewis showed me that newness is no virtue and oldness is no vice. Truth and beauty and goodness are not determined by when they exist. Nothing is inferior for being old, and nothing is valuable for being modern. This has freed me from the tyranny of novelty and opened for me the wisdom of the ages.” ~ John Piper

“C. S. Lewis showed me that newness is no virtue and oldness is no vice. Truth and beauty and goodness are not determined by when they exist. Nothing is inferior for being old, and nothing is valuable for being modern. This has freed me from the tyranny of novelty and opened for me the wisdom of the ages.” ~ John Piper

“When you give yourself to places, they give you yourself back; the more one comes to know them, the more one seeds them with the invisible crop of memories and associations that will be waiting for when you come back, while new places offer up new thoughts, new possibilities. Exploring the world is one the best ways of exploring the mind, and walking travels both terrains.” ~ Rebecca Solnit

It has been weird to be without a computer for a week. Kindle Fire has provided entertainment, at least. What happened is that the old computer died one morning last week – simply would not power up. I was in front of the bathroom mirror, contemplating a bit of a dry shave, when the lights flickered momentarily. My intuition fell wide open, and I was like “oh shit”. I came back to the computer and tried to turn it back on. Nope, nada, bupkis. Luckily I didn’t freak out because the week before I had a brief problem with some virus that froze up the machine, requiring an emergency re-start. That iMac was 10+ years old. Bueno bye. This new/used Mac is basically the same as the old, except for being a newer model; still old, but refurbished. $425.00. Who knew? Thanks to the guys at Electric Sheep, here in Taos. When I knew the thing was dead I weighed my options, the most extreme of which was how I could possibly fork out $1500 for a brand new Mac, especially considering that I don’t have the money for that. At lunch break from work I cruised over to the computer shop a friend uses, to ask if it would be cost effective to repair the old one or get a new one. Nope, no repair. They had this machine sitting right behind the counter, and the guy said he’d call me later with a price quote. It was all a meant to be sort of thing. Got me a really good deal. Got me a good dose of providence. So, anyway, I’m back online and back to this blog. I really missed writing daily. Good to be back. All for now.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Boomers and Inner Muzak

“So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.” ~ Hermann Hesse

“Integrity is not a conditional word. It doesn’t blow in the wind or change with the weather. It is your inner image of yourself, and if you look in there and see a man who won’t cheat, then you know he never will. Integrity is not a search for the rewards of integrity. Maybe all you ever get for it is the largest kick in the ass the world can provide. It is not supposed to be a productive asset.” ~ John D. MacDonald

“We care about the dead. We try with our lives to honor theirs. That’s how we make our lives meaningful, and how we make their lives meaningful, too.” ~ John Green

A high haze has the stars looking about as pale as they can without slipping out of the range of human vision altogether. I watched a couple of episodes of Star Trek NextGen last night. I shouldn’t have stayed up so late – no – but I couldn’t help myself. The stories had substance. Back when the show was still on network, with a fresh episode each week, mom and I would watch each new episode, from our respective residences, then I would call her when the show was done to discuss the story. She one time said that the crew felt like family. Roger that, good buddy. My point is that out in space the stars are never dull. Here on Earth we have moisture to deal with. And sometimes it hangs high, seemingly just to mess with the view. I like to remind myself that gray haze is also a view. I am most definitely not what I call a Sunshine Superman, nor am I a member of our modern Positivity Culture. Like Eddy Rabbit, I love a rainy night. And a reminder that the storm is real. I carry that reminder with me as a metaphor, everywhere I go. Another bit of media stuff here, before I go on to other things – social media in this case. This morning I read an article about a Facebook group with 60,000 members, and the whole purpose of the group is to provide a space where people pretend to be Baby Boomers. Really? Yup. Go figure. I wonder if they realize that we too had to pretend, until the reputation kicked in to Actuality Mode, and we became the real thing. Hey, listen – I work in retail. I wouldn’t recommend pretending that. Get out there and do the real thing. You can learn a lot about people that way. And on that same note, I just want to point out that in the hardware store where I work it is almost exclusively Boomers who dance in the aisles or sing along a bit when a cool classic tune comes on the system we used to call Muzak. Just sayin’. Y’all obviously have a lot of work to do. Speaking of work, it’s a workday for me today. Sunrise is minutes away. I feel pretty logey, but good. My feeling good has been a little too rare for my taste. In my Inner Muzak I am hearing Jimmy Cliff singing “I can see clearly now the rain is gone“. Well, Jimmy, I could alter the lyrics and feel just fine about that too – “I can see clearly now the rain has come“. There is a lot to look at in this world, and to feel. Keep pretending. You’ll see.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.