Sabbath Thoughts

Thankful for the challenges, loving every minute of even the hardest lessons, because I'm in the classroom that was shaped for me. Thinking a lot about aliens, always feeling the presence of angels, surrounding myself with light. Feeling into the static, wondering why I don't fit into the sound, what strings are attaching me to the last of the broken signals? Wonder and amazement at the things that haven't changed. Some energetic connections never dissipate - magnetism, past lives, maybe it's all love but it feels a lot like screaming into a pillow. Sometimes the reverberations only go so far. Some people don't WANT to be touched, some people are afraid to be free, so let them be afraid. There will always be fences and I will always be wearing a skirt too short to jump them while still looking lady like, but I never did care about social graces. I've been running in heels and giving where I'll never receive for so long that it's starting to feel like a calling. Care for the sick, heal the wounded, be the muse that never gets gifted with anything permanent. I may be a stumbling block, or a drug you can't stop hitting, a sign in your path like the yellow butterflies that keep following me down these city blocks, but at least in my own transience, I never break the bonds. My mortality makes me feel alive. 

I know I am invincible. 

All-powerful hands hold up this ship. Wisdom comes with never belonging, accidents happen, but I'm always tripping forward. Falling on my face into the next square on the board. At least it's been soft landings these days. At least on the ground, I remember to pray.

Sour Diesel

We should go get Ben and Jerry's.

We should go get Smashburger. 

We should go get more of this fucking peanut brittle.

I want to violently make love to whoever invented peanut brittle.

No. What we should DO...is RIVER RAFTING. 

We need to get off the grid. 

We need to start a commune.

We need to grow our own kale to make awful tasting smoothies with.

I want bacon.

I want to understand why humans can't seem to mate for life.

I want to be able to see the color of Barack Obama's aura.

Feel my pulse.

Tell me a story.

Fuck, man, not that story.

This is boring.