Raven Dance and Fireball

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“Try to learn to let what is unfair teach you.”  ~ David Foster Wallace

“What the really great artists do is they’re entirely themselves. They’re entirely themselves, they’ve got their own vision, they have their own way of fracturing reality, and if it’s authentic and true, you will feel it in your nerve endings.”  ~ David Foster Wallace

“That sometimes human beings have to just sit in one place and, like, hurt. That you will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realize how seldom they do. That there is such a thing as raw, unalloyed, agendaless kindness. That it is possible to fall asleep during an anxiety attack. That concentrating on anything is very hard work.”  ~ David Foster Wallace

Sad to say the danged coffee is too weak again this morning, but there are also faint coyote calls in this dark end of morning. The neighbor dogs have been making a minor sporadic fuss for a while now, no doubt inspired by the whispering howls of their canine cousins. But back to the coffee . . . I might have to start measuring the stuff when I heap it into the filter basket. I don’t actually measure stuff like that. I mean . . . I didn’t. Sigh. Another comforting old habit flutters off into the past . . . when I’m 64. That’s right now, right here: I’m 64. Does that make any kind of sense at all? Really? If I sit stock still in this chair I am like 22 or something. But when I move it’s suddenly 64. Something to do with the theory of relativity, I think. I don’t know. I’ve got the full nine yards this morning. Four solid-impact bicycle crashes come to haunt me. Slouching, head hanging more than usual. No complaints really. That’s one of the medicinal benefits of cannabis Indica, it seems to create a kind of benevolent and beneficent apathy. I’ve grown to appreciate a little wake and bake each Sunday morning. What I am saying is that I’m one big ‘ouch’, but I took something for it, and that’s starting to kick in, and I’m like all dude, thanks, dude. Now, it’s about 45 minutes before sunrise, which I plan to attend. Me and my camera. Then it’s feed the cat and maybe a nap. The forecast calls for heavy weather drifting in, noonish. I’ve got two days off here so I will be able to fully appreciate the snow. If it comes . . . . nah, it will. I think I’ll try some positive thinking today, see if it works any better than it usually does, which is not much. Waxing Moon, no longer a sliver, there is magic in the air. Lots and lots of magic. One sign I witnessed was a slow-moving golden fireball this morning, making it’s way down, out west somewhere. Yesterday morning, as I sat in my car, waiting for the boss to come and unlock the door, so we could get on with the workday, I was honored with a breathtakingly prodigious display of aerial acrobatics, by two magnificent ravens, wings tip-to-tip, tearing back the air with their sharp turns and climbs and dizzying descents. Raven dance. Wow, just wow. And then there was that thing that happened yesterday, where I seemed to consciously experience retrocausality, precognition, whatever. I won’t go into the boring details; it was just something with the online time clock at work. I don’t care to draw any conclusions, nor proffer any theories, but what happened reminded me that it’s all real. All of it. And that time doesn’t actually work like we think it does. The incident really set me to thinking, but only after I savored a sweet WTF. When time starts playing tricks on me it means that the faeries may be messing with me again. I don’t know if you believe in faeries, but they don’t care if you do or not. I do. I believe. They are part of all of it.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously

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