By the way, this year’s Halloween was a wash out. Oh well. Seems so often that this time of year, we’re broke as hell, or unstable in some other kind of way. Forces me to think in terms of seasons, for sure. National Novel Writing Month, for example, falls around this time of year, and many complain that this is the time when they’re most busy and could you please switch it up, move it to another month? Seasons, ebb and flow, busyness, down-time, making time. Making time, forcing time, and exhaustion, pushing yourself too far.

I carved a pumpkin up good. Took a lot of patience. Poked holes through the stencil provided from the kit. I didn’t take the time to research any kick ass faces this year, or crank out one of my own. And oh boy did it take a lot of carving up. Be patient, she kept saying. A lot of self doubt. I can’t keep on with this. I’m failing with the bat. That doesn’t fucking look like a bat. No one’s gonna know that’s a bat…

Finished the thing up pretty good, though. Looks awesome in the dark lit up flickering.

. . .

Sunday, I’ve run into friends up here at the coffee shop, and so we’ve been sitting around talking about whatever and it’s just been the most beautiful way to spend this kind of time. You know, early morning. By now, it’s 1 PM, though, and they’ve cleared out, and I’m writing, reading, writing some more, brainstorming thoughts for the book, switching back to writing in my journal, doing the whole ballooning thing. Such ‘n such thought relates to this, to that, to coffee, and back, then on, forward, gleeming, so obvious it’s right in your face. Yes, so obvious that I’ll include in the book a chapter dealing with the piggies at war. You know, they are so random and that randomness is so refreshing. After all, they cease battle as the sun goes down and mostly differences are set aside, ‘cept they can be awfully bitchy still. Such is life. Hard to put every single little thing behind you, unless you’re a buddhist, and then, well… Do buddhists not struggle? Anyway, the piggies will get their safe space to vent on some issues before sun up.

. . .

Is it okay that I like Stevie Wonder? Very superstitious!

I’m only superstitious when I’m listening to this song. Otherwise, I’ve set the guilt asail and everything else from the ashramas that have plagued my heart over the years. So I say. The book will surely deal with that, too. I must admit, while I speak of it, that it’ll mostly contain free writing sessions and flow on very playfully, the way I like it.

Very superstitious

I ran through
a goddamn
window when
I was a kid
and bled a big puddle
on the kitchen floor
while my mother
frantically called 911
I wonder what
day that was

what the hell
is up
with numerology?

I don’t know
if it is
off putting
that I say aloud
that I am
an atheist
or am fascinated by atheism
by its possibilities of freeing people
(or anyway will people still
find a way of trapping themselves, even without theology?
but of course!)
and yet
be fascinated by
hauntings, visitations

the buddhist thing
as I see it
is to reopen
your awareness
things around you
and in and about you
things you
usually
overlook
and to regain this
is to feel like
you’ve gained
superpowers
and should therefore
assume
a masked identity
but it’s
not like that

you’re being
more
you

that
is all

besides,
saying I like
a few Stevie Wonder songs
is not
like saying
I own
Sheryl Crow albums

because that
would be
crass
I tell you

flat out

don’t go that route

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