hurricane

The world did not wake me up singing on a Friday, unless a whistle in my bones counts. Over a pastry from Pushkin Bakery and coffee, I tried to manifest my namesake and bring Hurricane Katia out of the Gulf of Mexico and into my energies ona late summer early fall morning. She was swirling around so heavy, I was liable to knock some neighborhoods around. I had to figure out could I settle all my madness, and make it righteous good?

Journal .000696 rpms

Everything is lined up perfectly for our success. Yours. Mine. 
The horse is in the barn. The squirrels are in the trees. The mendicants on their knees. 

The world is rotating at .000696 rpms. 
The perfect exposure to the sun, for consciousness to bloom.
Warning to self. Do not let this day slip away! 
As the world turns, let the fat burn. 
Sizzle! 

Give it all away again. 

When the mind's exhaust casts its mist over you, obscuring the perception in pings of many deadly thoughts, be sure to stop where you are and challenge those thoughts. 

Who are you to be envious of another? 
Who are you to be full of anger?
Who are you to wish harm?
Who are you?

Those instincts which once kept us alive, will always haunt us. 
They were burned into our grooves.