Today

Today, I remind myself because I have to lest I forget to remember that for a week I must think about frugality. Then, I contemplate all that I just tipped out of my trashcan, consumables consumed by me, and one other person. The take is shocking. I recognize this and hate the waste and the seemingly no way to stop it. Every surface in my house has something on it left by someone other than me, I clean them off, the stuff continues to simply arise out of the dust that mythologies are cast in, and then decidedly, gets blown away by something, natural or man-made, a disaster is a disaster, a clean-up, now, that’s magic.


But, we are all alive, ya betchya. I re-conscribe my world and colonize my own language. I might as well; there is nothing and no else to talk to. Talking is passé for everybody, including myself, that’s why I write. Yeah, I talk a lot, too, inside and out like now. But, I don’t have any choice, that is just what I do, because I have to in order to find some order within the chaos that surrounds me, vibrating intensely beneath my feet as a testament to nature, that has always been prescribed as feminine, unstable, mysterious, unpredictable, or worse, an act of God.

None of it works, let’s face it.

Its okay to wipe the slate clean when the whole mucking place is devastated, but, the order must resume donchugedit?! They both suck because of and in conjunction with one another, there always is two in communication, but I disagree with this, I talk to the robins in the garden, I really do and you can’t take that away from me, call me crazy and be done with it, I exist alongside you always and I am an animal, no doubt about that, that makes two of us.

Most days I like it in a frugal kind of way, so I can’t wait for industry, which is always the by product of frugality, too, they are one and the same in the mirror, no matter who discusses which self blooms, they both change by the reflection one to another, we are not only a product of our environment, we are the environment that makes the product, the only time you go into the darkness is to flee, unless you walk at night amongst the stars, naturally, both parts addressed inside yourself, you are stardust if you like, and not stardust if you don’t. You get to decide at least that much. Which do you chose? Which sounds better? I decide.

I look up at the sky and see birds flying two by two everywhere, but I, I am alone until I recognize that Tuppy is there lying at my feet, protecting me from what? There is nothing to come and get me unless there is a decision made or an accident. I am not over there; I am inside you. When I write I can do that, be in more than one place at a time like magic.

That’s what I keep looking for while I learn what part is mine and communicate my own desire through language first, then and only then can it be communicated to another, that’s how it works, inside, outside, in reverse, reflecting back and forth, making it work, making it flicker across the screen by a process the “experts” would have you discoursing for a trillion years, and then suddenly, the years are at an end catastrophically by all kinds of events that rob us of our lives, and because of this deep fear of that, we attack one another cannibalizing no matter where we come from, where we are now and where we might think we are going.

Such is life and such is what Art longs to be, but never is, unless we decide for it to, says Eva.

Boom, boom goes the house in an up and down aftershock, just a jolt, a reminder of something kicking from the inside out, coming through, out to geeatcha...oh, my, it’s feminine rising.