Folk #1: What to write about this morning? I have reached deeply into my own calm center. Zen, indeed. I switch on my Chromebook, and check in with the over-amped, raving, drooling, lunatic mob, those crazed folks running the U.S. Government, and those stilted cretins who are still cheering them on. I suppose I need to know what fresh fuckery now? It's admittedly a weird form of entertainment. Observing these cruel, stupid, corrupt, yes, evil people and their thrashings of idiocy. They seem desperate. The louder they cry, whine, gnash their teeth, the more they seem ineffective, clueless, out of touch with the real, seriously sick & twisted. Not healthy Humans. I sip my coffee, listening to Jason Molina and The Magnolia Electric Co. on the stereo. Jason was a troubled soul (I listen to him sing and it's a sad, beautiful, inspiring thing), who laid down some amazing music: "And I am proof that the heart is a risky fuel to burn, Yeah, we are proof that the heart is a risky fuel to burn..."
Yes, we are all that smart proof, and as Randy Newman sang in another context: "Burn river, Burn..."
I imagine the hammer coming down on these crazed folks, the hammer of Justice & Truth. Maybe it's a healthy fantasy of mine. I still believe. I can imagine a better world, a better iteration of Human. Is it a pipe dream? I don't think so, I'm not sucking on a pipe. Give me some cold, hard, facts, some grains of truth, and I can run down a new scenario. The cruel idiots may be the loudest voices at the moment, but I do believe it's all empty, hollow, soul-killing b.s. It won't last. It's really the death rattles of a dying movement.
The Zen in me means I am not attached to any one of my dreams or ideas. They all flow thru me like water. Still dark here, but I know the sun will soon peek over the horizon. Announcing a new day in Paradise. I wonder where I will find the wonder today?







