Icarus and the Sundog


“You are the sky. Everything else – it’s just the weather.”  ~  Pema Chödrön

“I know that I am mortal by nature, and ephemeral; but when I trace at my pleasure the windings to and fro of the heavenly bodies I no longer touch the earth with my feet: I stand in the presence of Zeus himself and take my fill of ambrosia”  ~  Ptolemy

“There are landscapes in which we feel above us not sky but space. Something larger, deeper than sky is sensed, is seen, although in such settings the sky itself is invariably immense. There is a place between the cerebrum and the stars where sky stops and space commences, and should we find ourselves on a particular prairie or mountaintop at a particular hour, our relationship with sky thins and loosens while our connection to space becomes solid as bone.”  ~  Tom Robbins, Skinny Legs and All

What he said. That Tom Robbins quote, that is me in New Mexico, just as it was me in The Florida Keys. It’s just the way I am. As abrupt as it may seem I am going to step outside on the deck in the dark to gaze at the morning stars and achieve the same view of space. Busy backson.

Now: It’s nice out there. 46º, slight haze, tiny breeze. I did get a feel for the space that couches me in wonder. But then the hill leading up to the mesa became washed in the beams of a car’s headlights; a rare sight at this time of day. That brought me down to earth. Feet on the ground, bubba. Make sure yer head is attached dude. Good advice. I’m in a rough phase of life, headed for a major shift come the Winter Solstice. The feel of this living on the edge thingy is like the descent of the Space Shuttle in “Space Cowboys”. Good movie BTW. I’ll make it despite the anxiety of uncertainty. Let’s use a sketchy analogy from the myth of Icarus. I never, in the past eleven years, flew too close to the sun. I never got that high. Unlike Icarus the wax holding on my wing feathers never really melted, it just became soft, making my feathers all goopy and stuff, and I had to head back down with wings that have the structural integrity of wet blankets. Touchdown is happening right now. Wish me well, my friends. I can pinpoint the beginning of descent. It began when I got put on probation at the food market during the latter phase of my mom’s journey into death. The shock and pain of that action tore me wide open. I found a pretty good thermal for a few years but the descent  was the underlying current. Geez  .  .  . enough of that already. At the end of this post I’ve included a few photos of a rare sight that I was lucky enough to capture on camera two days ago: a sundog; which is a rainbow type phenomenon. The first photo shows a hawk flying up into the sundog. Lucky capture that. I am blessed.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.







Life Is Magic



“We live only a few conscious decades, and we fret ourselves enough for several lifetimes.”  ~  Christopher Hitchens

“There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a human’s mind against the Enemy. He wants men to be concerned with what they do; our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them.”  ~  C. S. Lewis

Have a look, again, at today’s opening photograph. That’s me in a nutshell today. And I have a headache as well. The sky has an indecisive overcast and first light is starting to bring it all into focus. It was clearly a night of anxiety dreams. The hair on the left side of my head is perpendicular to my skull. That’s always a telling sign. But the blanket was all chaotic and stuff as well. The evidence stands and I acknowledge that this edginess has been going on since before I woke. And I’m like all dude chill. It’s good advice. One thing about chronic anxiety is that it makes it difficult to spot real causes for concern amidst all of the business as usual kinds of fear. It all just runs together. Perhaps it would be best to do the Taoist thing and just take everything in stride. But then, do you let your anxiety show? That question can be read in either active or passive perspective. Should I do it, or do I do it. Does that make any kind of sense at all? It does to me. I love the Taoist perspective: be like the water in a stream, which simply flows around obstacles. Now, seriously, does this train of thought in this morning’s blog post mean that I should watch a movie this afternoon? Get my head out of my  .  .  .  ummmm, what was I getting at? If you are thinking that there was to be a crudity at the end of that truncated sentence you may be right, but I don’t think there was. It’s sometimes a good idea to allow yourself to become immersed in a drama of the cinematic kind. It is, after all, a form of art. Art feeds the soul. Films I’ve seen have been coming back to me lately, which makes me wonder if I should watch one of them again. “The Neverending Story”, “Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey”, “A Few Good Men”. There’s a bunch of them. Or should I watch something new? We will see. Maybe I should not be hiding away in this little room during such glorious Autumn weather. That’s a tough call. Likely it is what I will do today. I do feel physically ill, so rest and lots of water would be a good idea. I’m full of good ideas. One more won’t hurt. And I did buy a box of microwave popcorn yesterday. It was a tough one yesterday; lots of cranky people out in the marketplace and on the road. My drive into town on my way to work was tainted by an aggressive tailgater. Each time the guy got up close behind me I looked in the rear view mirror to behold his truly angry face. He had a shaved head and a goatee. Friggin guy. Oh well, there’s a lot to be unhappy about in the world these days. Seriously, I think that the looming presence of Donald Trump is having a major impact on our public psyche. He’s starting to feel like some Lovecraft character; almost demonic in both stature and heart. Hatred, fear, meanness for meanness sake. Sheesh, I don’t wanna get all Don Quixote on y’all. But I feel I must raise a wooden sword against this monster. I’m not tellin y’all how to vote, but my opinion is that we’uns oughtta take this guy down and let Hillary in, then recommence to address our ideals at a later date. Do you remember the scene from Harry Potter where Hermione gets into a fight with a troll in the girl restroom at Hogwarts? That troll reminds me of Trump. And I’m like Ron Weasley, impressed by the combative skills of his companion in magic. Sigh. Life IS magic. I must bear that in mind today. I’ve got a conflict with someone in my life going on. When my sense of harmony gets disrupted I  .  .  .  oh, never mind. It all works out. OH! I want to give a shoutout to whoever it is yonder in South Africa that’s been reading here at EyeYotee blog. I am truly happy you have found this blog to be worth reading. Thank you, thank you. Please come back again.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


The Dreamer and the Dream

D & D 005.jpeg

“Crazy Horse dreamed and went into the world where there is nothing but the spirits of all things. That is the real world that is behind this one, and everything we see here is something like a shadow from that one.”  ~  Black Elk

“Recounting the strange is like telling one’s dreams: one can communicate the events of a dream, but not the emotional content, the way that a dream can colour one’s entire day.”  ~  Neil Gaiman

A woof in the night, and then the dog proceeded to keep it up for a while longer. Because of his barking I started to attempt a visualization of coyotes weaving through sage brush and around the corners of houses. No vision came. Perhaps I’d already had too much coffee, and was too far awake to accomplish such a task. My loss, I am sure. But the clue did come soon; the next time I went outside to see the stars. A single kind of yelp, a coyote quip, not far beyond the garden fence. One yelp, no more. It roused a sleepy smile and I was satisfied. Then there were the meteors. Three of them. Two of them breathtakingly fast in descent. They made me think of this tiny planet and when I got the ‘tiny’ part into focus the rest unfolded before me, like a virtual whiteboard with scrawls from Neil DeGrasse Tyson elegantly explaining the scope of the vastness before my eyes. But it was not just my eyes, it was also my imagination, fed by the actuality before my eyes. That’s a big place out there. And how many billions of galaxies are there? And that’s just in this Universe alone. How about them other ones? I believe that there are other Universes. And I believe that there are levels of reality in this Universe that we ain’t even begun to perceive. And then there are dreams. Here’s that smile again, and yet my face feels numb. I don’t know why. And yet I feel the carryover from the Dreamtime. I had a big night before I even woke up, before coffee, before meteors and coyotes. Now, where are all of these eccentric perceptions coming from? Why I in such a spacey place this morning? I think it was the hug yesterday from my friend Wendy. She gives good hugs. But that is not the point. There are levels down deep within certain hugs. She is one of those eternal soul friends. I was at work and I broke protocol when I saw her by stepping away from the register and then around the counter to get a hug. I asked her how she was doing, and when her head was on my shoulder, her breath warm and soft, she said that it is Autumn, and that the season is so beautiful, and that she loves it. I love that woman, girl, whatever. She is 40-something, married to a gem of a man, with two lovely children. I love them all. This is eternal friend stuff. Sweet, subjective, dream stuff. Wisps of the Dreamtime rising up into waking life to remind me that it’s a big place out there. Yes. Oh, doth thou think me to be daffy? Listen, I am a Dreamer, and when the dream gets good, when the good stuff unfolds from the Implicate Order, I fold; I become flushed with gratitude. It’s a big place out there and I love it when out there happens here. She was right, the season is beautiful.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Coincidence and Blatant Timing



“Because I trust in the ever-changing climate of the heart. (At least, today I feel that way.) I think it is necessary to have many experiences for the sake of feeling something; for the sake of being challenged, and for the sake of being expressive, to offer something to someone else, to learn what we are capable of.”  ~  Jason Mraz

“Religion, mysticism and magic all spring from the same basic ‘feeling’ about the universe: a sudden feeling of meaning, which human beings sometimes ‘pick up’ accidentally, as your radio might pick up some unknown station. Poets feel that we are cut off from meaning by a thick, lead wall, and that sometimes for no reason we can understand the wall seems to vanish and we are suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of the infinite interestingness of things.”  ~  Colin Wilson

Coyote songs so rich and widespread that my smile was drawn from the dazzling stars and spread further along with the songs from the wild animals – that’s how my morning began. It brought me back down to Earth. There’s been a lot of that lately, and I am grateful. Yesterday’s missing blogpost went missing because I felt like crap. It was one of those times when true grit became clearly stupid when I became aware that I have been pushing so hard against the currents of life that I hadn’t even noticed that I was sick. Still am, but I am feeling better, thank you. Enter the Shadow. That was another part of it. Much sleep, plenty in fact, and the patterns of sleep went all wonky and stuff. I started out yesterday morning, promptly at midnight, awake and flushed with fear at where life will lead me from here. Anger as well. By 5 AM I was exhausted again so I lay back in the chair and intentionally re-entered the Dreamtime. When I awoke two hours later no memories of dreams were to be found. But don’t think for a minute that the dreams were inconsequential. That would be silly. I can’t articulate any further than to say that dreams never let us down. Nightmares have their place in our personal growth and development, whether we like it or not. I don’t know that I had nightmares. I rarely do. Anxiety dreams, dreams ripe with frustration – that’s more my style. Now, I hesitate to write about it here, lest peeps think I am daffy or deluded or stuff, but I have been experiencing contact, conscious contact, with some higher intelligence. It betrayed its hiddenness by inhabiting some rather bold patterns of coincidence and blatant timing. Most of this early contact was negative, Shadow stuff. But at one point the boldness of this intelligence made me snap. And I was like all WTF dude get yer self out and give me a gander at you dude. Show yourself. And things shifted. I soon remembered things like intentionality and (gulp) positive outlook, which means that I reckoned that a change of course was in order and to my great relief I realized that the positive thinking thing was merely a method for compensation from a drift elsewhere, otherwise, whatever. How Taoist can ya get, right? It’s all good? Nah. It is and it ain’t. Both-and. I love that term: both-and. Makes either-or look like all friggin stodgy and stuff. Moving forward, ummmm, so, oh dang it, I done ran out of stuff to say for now. Best get on to the next phase of the day. Boy howdy I don’t even want the sun to come up to find that the writer fella here ain’t stopped dreaming just because some of the dreams seemed bad. Poor little fella. I still physically feel like crap. Whatever. At least I acknowledge that fact, this fact, whatever. Yeh, whatever.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

All Clues Are In


“When I say or write something, there are actually a whole lot of different things I am communicating. The propositional content (i.e., the verbal information I’m trying to convey) is only one part of it. Another part is stuff about me, the communicator. Everyone knows this. It’s a function of the fact there are so many different well-formed ways to say the same basic thing, from e.g. “I was attacked by a bear!” to “Goddamn bear tried to kill me!” to “That ursine juggernaut did essay to sup upon my person!” and so on.”  ~  David Foster Wallace

“I have this — here’s this thing where it’s going to sound sappy to you. I have this unbelievably like five-year-old’s belief that art is just absolutely magic. And that good art can do things that nothing else in the solar system can do. And that the good stuff will survive, and get read, and that in the great winnowing process, the shit will sink and the good stuff will rise.”   ~  David Foster Wallace

After a couple of hours of stars and worrisome political journalism I find myself feeling lazy and not wholly committed to writing in this blog this morning. No biggie, right? I’ve just clicked on the electric space heater for the first time this season. Rosie the cat was right there to lay in front of it mere minutes after ignition. Yeh, I think it feels good too. It is nearly sunrise. The mind is slow; coffee all gone. Eyes all sore and puffy and friggin allergy  weepy and stuff. When I get sick, to whatever degree, I unconsciously ignore, even disdain, the fact that I am sick, and then I wonder why I feel so bad. Of course it’s my attitude. He said ironically. So, am I lazy or just tired; or why do you want to make a distinction anyway? Today and tomorrow off. My body is way jittery this morning, and yet I could nod off in an instant. Go figure. All clues are in, Mr. Watson. What do you make of it, my good sir?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Infinity in a Box With a Cat


“There was a brief silence in which the distant echo of Hagrid smashing down a wooden front door seemed to reverberate through the intervening years.”  ~   J. K. Rowling

Stars. Autumn carries a promise, innate and compulsory, that sooner or later the temperature will dip down to the freezing point. I don’t know if anything is freezing right now; it’s dark outside. But Autumn’s promise has been fulfilled; and it’s not even October yet. There will be protests. Don’t get me wrong here, I have compassion for Summer Sunshine Superman peeps who enjoy Summer so much that they want it to stay, but I have to admit that I will rub my metaphorical hands together gleefully. I lived in the sub-tropics for 23 years. Season’s are good. And yet, at times, I think I may have left my head in the sky in the islands. Best yank it back here, and now, I’ll have use of that head in the coming months. Fully functional at work, I find that I am pretty danged slack at home, but there is that compassion again, this time toward myself. I’m an introvert. Keeping up my brave face, game face, whatever, takes a lot out of me, and after a few swigs of the afterwork beer I find I have little else left in me than the ability to watch Seth Myers or Trevor Noah on Hulu. Hulu is my TV; no cable, no satellite. But Trevor and Seth give me the laughs I need when I finally get alone again after a long day in the marketplace; not just laughs, they give me depth of the human kind, and perspectives that I shoulda seen coming twere I not adrift in my own head so deeply, so often. My bad. Oh, yeh, Jimmy Kimmel too. He’s a hoot. Sitting with my friend the other day, there in the side yard outside the coffee sip, there along US 64, I noted curiously that I was speaking openly and passionately. Hey, I just used three words in one sentence that ended with the letters ‘-ly’. I’m not sure you can do that. Whatever. It’s a writer thing. I’ve not spent much time at all with my friend, not in a casual setting. We worked at the animal shelter together. I lasted longer than she did because she was one of the ones who got chewed up, and spit out, early on, during that nasty and unnecessary controversy two years back; just like the good doctor. I took my hits later on, and however metaphorically bruised I became I toughed it out by climbing inside of boxes with cats when things got difficult. No, not really in boxes with cats. Sigh. Well, I was known to poke my head in a box if it would fit. Cats have wisdom. What I basically did was to keep close to them critters when the cleanup was done and all were fed. I was sad and scared; just like them. Now, moving forward, my speaking openly and passionately with my friend came as quite a surprise to me. The conversation was not all a rehash of the nasty things in the past. We talked about life and writing and stuff as well. I listened down deep into my surprise at my openness and found that the nasty times at the shelter were maybe the lemon in my lemonade  .  .  .  no, wait .  .  .  the pearl in my oyster?  .  .  .  the prize in my box of Cracker jacks?  .  .  .  ummmm, never mind. We live, we grow, we sludge and stumble through hard times. I get it, I get it. Move along, there are no droids here. But listen  .  .  .  what do we really do with the past? Fence it off with barbed wire like the old ruin in the opening photo? I don’t believe in linear time, and I don’t see time as rigid. Time can be bent, and events past are still happening any time you give then awareness. But I do get it: do not dwell. Now, here’s a non-sequitous segue for y’all. Cats in boxes are the clearest image of infinity that you will ever find. It is a Universal constant. That is why I wanted to be in them boxes with them cats. They allowed me to hide in a timeless place whenever  .  .  .  hey, let me just say one more thing. This is what really hurt. At one point  my immediate boss put me in a position where I could no longer counsel people and match them up with cats for adoption. The admin had just praised me for my adoption rate. And just then my boss took that away from me. That’s what pissed me off. That wound will be some time in scarring over. Forgive me please me my seeming inability to move on. I’m a writer, it’s a great story, and it hurts. Ya gotta trudge through that pain, and share the stories that reflect , as David Foster Wallace said, “how it feels to be fucking human”. It’s all good.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Wordless By Nature


“You are like a lantern swathed and covered, hidden away in a dark place. Yet the light shines; they could not put out the light. They could not hide you.”  ~  Ursula K. LeGuin

It’s a magical morning; or maybe it’s just me. There was considerable rain overnight and the dark of morning has a shine as a result. The first pot of coffee is nearly gone, the cat is cute on her bed, and sound asleep. I’m still deep into memories of the animal shelter, and how human doings there, some quite dark, affected animals who were passing through. I’ve written before of the bond that arose between those of us who befriended one another. I had coffee yesterday with yet another former worker from the shelter. What we did there was so powerful. What we do now is powerful as well; educated as we are about some levels of life that can never be lost. Life is so vast, much of it untouched, but not this. This is a treasure to behold, this deep love, from handling strays and getting them home, this wordless understanding of how intersubjective communications are wordless by nature, like the look in a cat’s eyes when it knows that you know that regardless of the bars of cages love flows as a deeper current than we can explain. Any of us. There is always magic in cats’ eyes. Hopefully there will be magic in mine as well as I venture out into the marketplace today in search of smiles. Should be fun. I feel like crap today, physically speaking A spiritual transformation has begun and there is no turning back from this. True transformation is not by nature always comfortable. There is deep pain needs expressing. That is why the smiles, the beauty, the inner light, the  .  .  .  oh never mind. I think I made my point.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Larger World


“Owners of dogs will have noticed that, if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they will think you are god. Whereas owners of cats are compelled to realize that, if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they draw the conclusion that they are gods.”  ~   Christopher Hitchens

“Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm. It exists to give you comfort, it is there to keep you warm, and in those times of trouble when you are most alone, the memory of love will bring you home.”  ~  John Denver

Happy Equinox, Happy Autumn! I’ve not much to say this morning. There is a sweet chill, although it is not quite cold. The forecast is for a light freeze tonight. I will cherish that, just as I will cherish the opening of the Veil. There is a much larger world than the one we see. It is right here, separated by our limited perceptions from the one we know. On some deeper, subliminal level we interact with the larger world. This is where magic exists, and it guides us in silent ways. Once in a while the magic seeps through. Synchronicity is the most common form of seepage. But it’s all good. Yeh, today I can honestly say it’s all good. Nice. And one last note – shelter cats have been largely on my mind of late. Working with these cats was one of the most profound experiences of my life. Today I will cherish that profundity. Go look. Get one for yourself. They need homes.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

Looking Beyond the Mundane


Impressionism is the newspaper of the soul.”  ~  Henri Matisse

“The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts.”  ~  Marcus Aurelius

“If you don’t take risks, you’ll have a wasted soul.”  ~  Drew Barrymore

Hmmm. I just saw an article about an alien spacecraft that was revealed through satellite photos, and the darned thing is sucking energy out of the sun and attempting to use the energy to multiply. How they knew that last part is beyond me. I mean, I love to peruse UFO videos on You Tube once in a while, but this article just left me scratching my metaphorical head. Weird. I read another article earlier this morning about how the US Presidential campaign has gone down the rabbit hole. Well, duh. Then I got to thinking about Alice In Wonderland, and how the surreal nature of the story could well have been the author’s attempts at guerrilla ontology. Obscure, right? That’s me this morning. Nice sky show going on. Moon, clouds, that sort of thing. Quite pretty, and, for me, deeply compelling. The Equinox is still some 24 hours away and I feel the Veil Between the Worlds opening right on time. It is messages from the Ancestors I hope for, but if some Faerie being or Angel, or whatever, wants to have their say far be it from me to turn a deaf ear. I’m letting my mind run off into fantasy in order to access the imaginal world. Mundane reality seems kinda sorta shallow these days. I’m glad I am not a materialist. That’s all I can say. I prefer the worlds of mythos and archetypes. Just sayin’. Lately I have been thinking about the animal shelter again. It got triggered by a guy saying the other day, “It’s all about the animals”, and it dawned on me how narrow that statement can be. First off, humans are just as much animals as them cats and dogs are. How humans behave toward and with each other is an essential part of the welfare of the four-leggeds. Shit, it does matter what the people do. Bad vibes is bad vibes. I’ll leave that be at that. I was getting riled. Not going there this morning. In fact, I think I’ll let this post rest as is; contemplate the coming day. The aspen forests on the high slopes are turning bright yellow. The time is at hand. I love Autumn.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

The Cat in the Box at Equinox


“The world is given to me only once, not one existing and one perceived. Subject and object are only one.”  ~  Erwin Schrödinger

“Science cannot tell us a word about why music delights us, of why and how an old song can move us to tears.”  ~  Erwin Schrödinger

“Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand”  ~  Don McLean

Back in 2012, the year the world ended, I attended the International Conference on Science and Spirituality, at Buffalo Thunder Resort. It had been only weeks since I was canned from a job that I’d hoped would take me on through to retirement. Didn’t happen. Didn’t happen. But I learned a lot, both by listening to many wise and educated people and just by being there. If there is a difference between the two it escapes me completely. Did I miss something? Now, this morning, I just poured the second cup of coffee, and I have been out on the deck to kook at the sky precisely three times. Today’s forecast is for overcast skies, and the first two foray’s into the morning outside supported the speculation. The third time there were a faint few stars. I love a fresh cloudy day. My contention is that I was born on a cloudy day. Prove me wrong; go ahead. I dare you. There is no such information on my birth certificate. No, wait! It was not just a cloudy day it was a stormy day. Powerful thunder shook the hospital at its very foundation. Lights flickered. All present were existentially riveted by the storm. Ya think? I could be wrong. As was sometimes the protocol, back in the day, my mother was sedated with sodium pentathol: “truth serum”. Obviously I was also under the influence of the drug at the time of my birth. I was born to tell the truth. Now, before I go too far I am ditching this metaphor and tossing it out ‘long side the road as I look forward to a brighter future. My friggin attitude, neurochemicals be damned, is getting in my way so far. Brighter future? Brighter than what? Riddle me that, Batman. Relativity, dude! Norman friggin Vincent Peale! Tony Robbins, dude. Buck up and do the next right thing. Boy howdy I get soooo confused. I don’t feel like grabbing the future by the horns, balls, whatever. See, I’ve got a lot of pain this morning, radiating mostly down my arms, but that is a far sight better than yesterday, when the offending vertebrae itself was the source of the pain, and it expressively said so. Felt like a steel band around my chest. This morning I am standing straighter, a little taller.

“Serenade your angel with a love song from your eyes
Grow a little taller even though your age defies
Feel a little smaller
And in stature you will rise
A hobo or a poet must kill dragons for a bride;
And humble pie is always hard to swallow
With your pride”  ~  Graham Nash, Wounded Bird, from “Songs for Beginners”

It is Autumnal Equinox and the Veil is thinned by the shifting tilt of Planet Earth; or is it the other way around? Let’s not go there, k? Thanks, yer a pal. My Equinox is marked at the beginning by three hawks and a raven. It was late yesterday afternoon. I was sitting out to the north of the garden gate when I heard that proud, raucous croak from a raven. She was passing eastward just beyond the neighbors’ trees. Her low flight was impressive but she rose as she flew out over the donkey pasture. Then I heard that ‘skreee, skreee‘ like ya hear in a Western, a tone used by the foley fella to try and lure you into a Georgia O’Keefe painting type of mood. Red-tailed hawk; just sayin’. Flesh and blood bird. Raven made it up to where the hawk was soaring and the dance of two large magnificent birds ensued. Ravens are as big as hawks. It looks like a fight when they dance, but it is more ballet than belligerence. Finally in one impressive dive the hawk began to chase the raven back westward. Then another skreee. Then another. Raven hightailed it on her way. I soon spotted the other two hawks. There were three now, all at different altitudes, the highest of which rivaled the zenith of the golden eagle’s flight that I had seen the day before. Golden eagles are a fairly rare sight ’round these parts. That big bird was chased away by magpies. Friggin birds. Why can’t we all just get along? Now, about that lyrical Graham Nash quote, I’m a lookin’ for that angel dude. That this search is played out in a Western was totally unplanned by me at the time of my birth. Dang, I was all drugged up and stuff and there was this big storm, see, and the mere fact that I have the original copy of my birth certificate don’t prove nothin’ dude. And the opening quote of this post is from Erwin Schrödinger, who is famous for his Schrödinger’s Cat paradox, wherein the cat in the box is both dead and alive (like the old Western wanted posters) until you look and see. So (the writer obscurely continues), I challenge the notions about positive thinking. Am I positive or negative? Or is it even a matter of ‘either, or’? How about ‘both, and’? Dude I ain’t opened that box dude because I know how pissed that cat already is! Letting him, her, whatever,  out is only going to feed the flames, and it will make that storm at the time of my birth look like child’s play dude.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.