The Unforeseen and Peppermint Ice Cream Pumps...

I have a temperature. A fever. For real, not the Peggy Lee song. NyQuil in the daytime. Laying and lying in a field of down pillows... I'm tipping and tapping. Mind mind is not here but there, thinking of here.

Everyday is a new chance to discover the Lesbian-Made Strawberry-Thai-Chicken of Life. Everyday is a chance to to lick the Cool-Peppermint-Ice-Cream of the Unforeseen. Ritual deceives us into thinking days blur into an unchanging circle of predictability. It's a lie.

I know...I know...I love ritual too. Being a renounced, but still-heavily-stained Catholic...I know the pleasure of ritual. It smiles at the chaos...showing it's shiny teeth. It bites both ways though. Keeping chaos at bay, it also keeps our discovery at bay. The bottom of my trousers are scuffed, frayed, and yellowed by the anointment of street-laden-burrito-blues. My shoots (part shoe, part boot) are happily worn and drunkenly free stepping into the shampoo-y bubbles of chance. *pop*

*cough*

Rapping My Knuckles While Walking Zeno's Steps...

I'm holding your hand. When you hold something long enough you might not feel it anymore, though...there it is, still cupped, loosely fast forwarding the day to slowly make. Will weakens and wakes. I will always be there. If there is permanent impermanence, then permanence exists. Zeno tells me I'll never get there. Well I'm there already Zeno you naysayer! Math is a clock. Handy, but what is clock without time? What is this ground if I not cover it? Spilling my seed to where nothing grows...sometimes you just have to. It feels good to let it out, sans the outcome. The doing and the finishing. Let me wipe this up for you.

I rap my knuckles all day...in my bed, in my car, on the sidewalk, and on the edge of my toilet seat. Should I wash my hands? Am I dirty? I must accept the shit inside me. Worms do. Everything...everything is clean. One man's dirt is another man's field to grow in.

Don't let go of my hand...we're already there. Clean and naked.

I'm On the Party Line!!!

I'm on the "Party Line"! For you young-uns...it's a Kinks song about the old days when you couldn't have a telephone line all to yourself...you shared it with others in your building or neighborhood. Damn...I WANT TO BRING THAT BACK! BRING BACK THE PARTY LINE!

A group of your friends all yelling at the same time on one line. I want to bring to fingerprints and smudges back! Digital can handle it! Let's get messy! Mud pies, dirt clogs, and spit. I mean...what are friends for?

CIRCLE...CIRCLE...DOT...DOT...NOW I HAVE A COOTY SHOT!

I'm sorry I got grass stains on your favorite dress. You put your smell on me and I'm gonna put my smell on you. Everyone can tell something happened. So what? They wish it happened to them.

Well it can. Come on the Party Line! Are you with me?!

Baby I'm Amazed...

Fingers to keys today. I have to write. For you. You know who you are. You crazy, amazing, giving person who held out your hand and said "Here you go. I hope this helps." You visited my Atom Orr Patronage page and gave to me. Just because you wanted to and you could.

In these times. Tough for all, people still surprise and inspire. Perhaps especially because it is tough.

I will not pontificate, drumbeat or ramble-dramble much longer because words will dull my feelings of humble awe and appreciation. Just know I truly thank you for what you've given me and what you given me inside. Hope. Acknowledgment that in a small way I may have given something of value to you. Today, tomorrow and other tomorrows...

Thank you.