“Color directly influences the soul. Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the hammers, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand that plays, touching one key or another purposely, to cause vibrations in the soul.” ~ Wassily Kandinsky
“After sleeping through a hundred million centuries we have finally opened our eyes on a sumptuous planet, sparkling with color, bountiful with life. Within decades we must close our eyes again. Isn’t it a noble, an enlightened way of spending our brief time in the sun, to work at understanding the universe and how we have come to wake up in it? This is how I answer when I am asked—as I am surprisingly often—why I bother to get up in the mornings.” ~ Richard Dawkins
“Mere color, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways. ” ~ Oscar Wilde
Deep sleep last night and moderate peace this morning. That’s how it is today. The sun has yet to crest the gap in Pueblo Canyon, but it’s going that way. The only annoyance from a sleep so deep that the body kinda sorta just let it all loose in that the pains in my upper body were highlighted as I stirred coming awake. There was a bonus from all that pain in that I could feel the pattern of the structural glitches, most of them seemingly . . . no, not that, I almost said arbitrary. Let’s just call them random. I mean, no one intends to go down with a bicycle: you play you pay, that’s all it really is.
I took a break to watch the sunrise for a while. It was one of the displays, all orange and incandescent blue and stuff. Both pretty and majestic. I’ve been known to consider a deep gray dawn to be majestic as well, so draw your own conclusions. With me and the weather, colors and all, it is a true case of it’s all good. I don’t often use that tired aphorism, so, once again, draw your own conclusions. Geez peeps, I have the strangest urge to sit down and watch some Columbo with mom, but she died 11.5 years ago, so the accomplishment of such a thing is sketchy at best. No, I don’t know what it means. Not at all. A part of the grieving process? Boy howdy is it ever. It never stops, this grieving for the loss of the mother. I still to this day sometimes get the urge to call her around lunch hour. When I still used to do that, I had no cell phone, and pay phones were still around. What happened? I mean, really now peeps, what happened? I mean, I’ve got a friggin smartphone now. The world has changed so much that . . . well, it just changed. That’s all. I gotta go give the cat her insulin now, so let’s call the writing a wrap. Luckily she hasn’t fought me on this in many a month. I’ve already spilled enough blood as it is. But . . . it’s all good, right? Right.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.