“Don’t worry. You’ll find your message in your mess.” ~ Richie Norton
“In photographs taken from the sky, cities resembled circuit boards. It was no surprise, really, that there were sparky misfirings, dangerous connections. Even traffic, Alice concluded, set up a kind of static in the air, let loose vibrations and uncontainable agitation. Freighted with more than they could absorb, with city intentions, citizens moved in designs of inexplicable purpose.” ~ Gail Jones
“So when I watch trains, it makes me think about how much movement there is in the world. How every train has dozens of cars and every car has hundreds of parts, and all those parts and cars work day after day. And then there are all these other motions. People are born and die. Seasons change. Rivers flow to the sea. Earth circles the sun and the moon circles Earth. Everything whirring and spinning toward something. And I get to be part of it for a little while, the way I get to watch a train for a minute or two, and then it’s gone.” ~ Jeff Zentner
It’s one of those mornings when writing seems to be a secondary consideration. Like, ya know, I don’t have time to write the crafted stuff I’ve been enjoying so much. This is something new about my writing: I am consciously aware of giving consideration and mindfulness to the way I craft sentences. Whatever. Yeh, sorta, but this is almost like achieving a goal I didn’t know I had. A couple of weeks ago I mentioned this to my massage therapist, and she went silent for a spell, fingers working away at the tortured muscles in my upper back. Stuff hurts. I was face down, of course, which means that I could not see her as we chatted. So, anyway, I’d mentioned my joy at finally consciously crafting sentences instead of spitting out almost channeled material. After the pause she said, verbatim, “Maybe you’re just getting good”. It was one of those ‘moment of reflection’ moments. I didn’t say thank you, but the compliment (she did read my book) was obvious. Of course it would have hit me differently if I had been able to see her face. There are levels of communications going on during conversation that are non-verbal. I wish I could see her as we converse. But there is work to do and she does it well. At the moment, realtime meatspace, I am fixin’ to head out to watch the sunrise over the mountains, for a spell, until I get my self looking presentable, then head on down into town to go to work. The rooster has just begun with his wimpy crowing. Sounds like he’s downed-out by Xanax or something. I remember that feeling, back when Xanax was one of the lifesavers that lifted me up from the worst spell of depression I ever had. My crow was kinda wimpy for a while. But that was yesterday. Today, right now, I’m gonna get my assets in gear and do this thing. I feel happy enough.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.