Poking At the Brain

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“Surely we cannot take an open question like the supernatural and shut it with a bang, turning the key of the madhouse on all the mystics of history. You cannot take the region of the unknown and calmly say that, though you know nothing about it, you know all the gates are locked. We do not know enough about the unknown to know that it is unknowable.”  ~  G. K. Chesterton

“It has always been a happy thought to me that the creek runs on all night, new every minute, whether I wish it or know it or care, as a closed book on a shelf continues to whisper to itself its own inexhaustible tale. So many things have been shown so to me on these banks, so much light has illumined me by reflection here where the water comes down, that I can hardly believe that this grace never flags, that the pouring from ever-renewable sources is endless, impartial, and free.”  ~  Annie Dillard

Today, after pert near ten hours of anxiety-saturated sleep, I feel that fresh fatigue that morning brings, when indeed fatigue has set in, hampering each breath, poking at the brain like a younger brother, feeding pablum to an already beleaguered soul. Chuckling here, I just had to look up “pablum”, and it turns out to be a very appropriate word, although I had some fancy feeling that it also referred to a hot cereal, a kind of oatmeal for the brain. It makes me think of my friend Joanne Foreman, who once told me that television turns the brain into something with the consistency and texture of tapioca. I don’t have to look up “tapioca” because I know  .  .  . no, wait, I will look it up. Yuppers, I was right, it is a starchy substance after all. Moving forward, I opened this post with enough text to pretty much save myself the trouble of writing any more than a smidgen of a Sunday morning post. Believe you me, that is how I feel this morning; I have what the great Dana Carvey calls “a case of the Fuck Its”; an affliction that is causing me to get all plucky and stuff with my semi-colon usage; using the late great David Foster Wallace as a paladin of inspirational grammar; so I take pause to remind myself that the late great Kurt Vonnegut admonished a kind of grammatical celibacy; a warning: don’t use the semi-colon at all! Awww dude. I din’t mean to get all meta and stuff dude. I jest ain’t got it in me today dude to try out structuralism as a means of self-control, and I also ain’t got it in me to go all Kerouac on ya dude. So chill. I most certainly am. Now, mysticism isn’t really the ticket either. This mood is really about pulling back the Veil, perhaps without permission, and using the New Moon in Virgo and the solar eclipse to kinda allow myself to hang with the Ancestors and the Mother Goddess, which of course can be just about any goddess of all y’all’s choosing. My lower jaw is trembling, a ‘sometimes’ condition that arises when my mostly severed nerve in there shows that it isn’t all dead, and it expresses a feeling that doesn’t get expressed while it sleeps. That hidden expression has a correlate of a broken heart, which manifests as queasiness in the 3rd chakra and stiffness in the 5th chakra. The heart is encapsulated. Dag nab it. Moving forward, for today’s post, that’s all folks.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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