DADDY sez...

And the Accidental Yogi, Mr. Brown: The Stalin Boddhisattva. That fierce super-clenched control vortex; sands of power not just slipping through his fingers, but flying out in all directions. How is it that one can be hated the most by the many he has helped the most? Irony incarnate. Listening to him vent heavy, lost in emotion but also somewhat self-aware. At once sublime and amusing. Was that earlier today?

Mr. White, the chillest of chill. It's as if everything outside that door is rebuilt by the animal and machine Sprites by just hanging here for a few hours trying to kill that unkillable cornucopia of Newcastle. We talk shop: engineering, technical and sociial. He came up with THE MOST ingenious hardcore info-control idea I have ever heard, and wasn't even aware of it's brilliance (until I pointed it out, of course.) Trip.

a perfect Yummy Day(s)

And what DAY is it again? Actually enjoying the presence of just about everyone?! it occurred to me that I am on the upswing, and I stopped a moment to hope.

Hoping not for the impossible permanent state o' grace, but hoping for a little pause. Not a big one; just a little slower than usual.

a pause before the swing goes down; before it burns away yet again. leaving me here flickering down - watching it all disappear.

And another thing occurred to me: That this is not so different from FurBurger's acceptance-rage-acceptance-rage thing, differing only in frequency and amplitude. Instead of the surface or dominant cycle being measured in minutes and hours, mine are measured in weeks and months. Same thing, different speed. The inside forming the outside in it's own image.

is it merely the trailing after-effect of getting good yoga
or a culmination of all that has come before?
yes no yes no yes
probably not
don't know, don't care

it's just a good ride, it is. Even when the cold's to the bone and every stand of trees round every bend pass by like an endless film loop, and you don't think there will ever be another small town appearing, and you're only HERE, with that here being nothing but whistling wind, exhaust roaring, bone chill and evergreens. In that moment beyond the moment beyond the hundredth thought that this will never end...

a place named Ely appears, or Hot Springs, or some forgotten always-dying college town named after some dead tribe whose name you can't remember anymore

there's an old lady who will rent you a room for the few hours 'til twilight

and when you wake, some gay guy will be buying the really old unused cigarette machine from the lobby (but paying a more-than-fair price which she will not refuse.) Because times are always hard here in the middle, and sometimes they're even harder. You look at him in wonder and awe for thriving so well in a state so Red. HE wouldn't rain fire on the red man (and woman and child) huddling in the cold and wet draw; their clothes and body parts collected as souvenirs by the Carnival rabble of the Good Sons of Liberty. sure he wouldn't.

you can barely stand, but you can still ride

and you got some more road to go.

searching for that thing that can't be found. it might be somewhere near this giant forest that will be a pile of black cinders three years from now. it might be at the end of this train ride south, or on that airplane jump to the random city you've never seen

welcome to The Funhouse. there are things to see and be.

i am on fire.

I AM FIRE. looking at me.... licking at you

burn

to the ground

it's like I'm 5 again. Jumping around in the surf, hunting for the perfect collection of seashells. Not caring if anyone thinks I'm a big retard. Because I know I am, and besides: the perfect collection is right at my grasp. just one more. no, one more.

my eyes are closed. the warmth of the sun baking right through me; deep into the marrow

i lay on the beach at the southernmost tip of Babylon, fondling in my left hand the coarse sand and seashells i've found, and I dream into being

a life worth living in a world that deserves to live

and i will sleep no more forever

(Was that a fucking blog entry? whathefukk??!?! )