almost doesn't count

so near as to fall within affective range, so close as to warrant unprecedented pathways . . . . . . yet still too far.

moment no. 9

burning and bursting through elations, all the while snagged on elaborations of tribulation. save for mountainous realizations, fates may conclude the need for an entirety of re-evaluation. nonetheless, the breath flows and minus the cold of the soul-bent shaped hold on it all, i'd call for a dose of massivity.

Courage

. . . so there was this episode of X-Men on the other night where Morph came back from rehab after his near-death-by-sentinel experience. So he's back and everyone's so happy and he's like, 'Yeah baby, put me in where there's some action 'cause I'm ready.' And right away he's back to his life as an X-Man, which at this point doesn't involve sentinels because they're supposedly eradicated.

But low and behold, they're NOT! And on his first time back in the field with Wolverine, Wolverine doesn't tell Morph that he smells sentinels because he doesn't want Morph to freak out, but then when Morph finds out that Wolverine didn't tell him he gets all suuuuper pissed and he's all: 'Don't fucking baby me! I'm in it to win it!' or whatever.

Ok, so then I'm like, 'Yeah - he came back 'cause he's ready and if there're gonna be some sentinels in the mix, Morph's gonna take care of himself 'cause he got fixed in rehab . . . yeah. . . .'

Yeah but no because then the sentinels come to nab Professor X and Morph's standing RIGHT the fuck next to him - WITH a laser blaster gun thing nonetheless - and he COMPLETELY freezes and THEN starts crying like a lil' bitch when the sentinels fly off with Xavier.

And I'm like, 'Oh no! He's not fixed! He's a fucking liability! What a gyp!'

Alright, but THEN (and trust me, I'm getting to the point) in the final showdown with Master Mold (the King Koopa of sentinels - the UBER sentinel) Morph TOTALLY comes out of NOWHERE and pulls off all these super-phatty textbook X-Men 'kill all bad guys while saving all good guys' moves and I'm all like 'OOOOooooh shit! NICE Morph! You totally redeemed yourself!' Right?

And everyone else is like that too - all psysed and getting ready to go into town and do some shots to celebrate or whatever (I really don't think X-Men drink, but you know what I'm sayin) and they look up . . . and Morph's walking away!

And we're ALL like, 'WHA - !?'

And he's like 'I know I was all mega-fly this time and rocked that shit for real, but word, the next time I don't know if I'm gonna do that or start crying like a lil' bitch again, so I gotta roll. I'll be back when I'm ready for real.'

And then he gets in the chopper and bounces!

And for real, at first I was like 'Man! What the fuck!?! He just PROVED that he can pull it together when it counts, what the hell? He doesn't have to leave! That doesn't make any fucking sense!!!'

. . .

But then I met you. And now I get it.

You know what you gotta do and you're doing it.

Right on.

handle with care

hanging my head to think about those poor wildflowers . . . .

they're not so hearty as to be watered on whimsy, perhaps left in appropriate-intensity sunlight and thrive nonetheless.

they're not 'safe.'

'they're so beautiful and exotic,' you say. 'i'd love to keep one in my home, but i just know i'll kill it.'

i'm disappointed in your pussy-like attitude. grow some balls already.

oh. but wait a second. i'm scared to kill them too. that's why i'm surrounded by succulents and spider plants . . . palms . . . ivy . . . .

they're 'safe.'

. . .

hmm, sadness . . . .

theatrical pause

wait! i just remembered! i DO have wildflowers! i do! they were a gift!

and i tried!!!

. . . and they succeeded!

oh sweet relief . . . !

hold off on the hypocrisy.

Capitol-ism

For the first time in my life, I'm actually proud to be an 'American.' I'll give you one guess as to why.

You got it, I'm sure.

But if you didn't, here you go: Obama.

This man, whose name alone defies so many ill-begotten conventions of this nation, has inspired a slew of people worldwide. He has single-handedly (in a sense anyway) brought together the old, young, black, white, gay, straight, fat, skinny, tall, short . . . and made us all give a damn, all at once.

I mean, come on. That's pretty impressive.

. . .

When I think back to the night that he was elected, I lose my mind all over again (and it feels phenomenal!).

The rejoicing . . . ! The elation! The collective ecstasy of a people who had finally allowed ourselves to be vulnerable again; to possess a dream that just barely kept an inconceivably cruel nightmare at bay.

We did it (Yes We Did!!!)!

And if you weren't here to cry and scream and dance and laugh and scream and cry that day, no worries! You still have a chance to phatten up your nostalgia bank on Tuesday the 20th.

Who cares where you're coming from, just come. Who cares that you'll have to miss work, just come. Who cares that you don't have a place to stay. . . .

You can stay with me. For free.

moment no. 6089

lessons learned from the constant confrontation:
life/death
birth/decay
fruit-ful/less

and an imagination that refuses to conform to previous realities and their constraints.

kudos to you!

without an etched-out path, one must be created - so long as plenty of breadcrumbs are at hand.

and by the way, i never believed any of the bullshit you wanted me to say. . . .
yes to, that is.

begin-again

. . . born bathed in glory, drenched in dreams.

Tides and seasons and cycles of the moon all serve to soil the soul if care isn't taken to remember: the only thing that means anything.