Love, a sustainable state of insanity?
Tossing and turning throughout the night, not in a restless way but as part of the whole - and the whole was good.
In my dreams I would be answering questions. Then I’d rollover and start another phase of the same dream, not anxious or conscious, but knowing. Physically I was relaxed and never woke in a bad position or sore. Spectacular.
I feel as though I am breezing, flying through this life without knowledge of the present. I’m wondering how I’m going to do all this. I haven’t got a clue.
Forward eyes and forward motion. This is my idea of right now. Onward and …well, onward!
The long, last rays of sunshine slanting through the green new grass. In the distance, carried on a still cool Spring breeze, “Money for nothing…Iwant my… I want my… I want my MTV…” can be faintly but distinctly heard.
Thoughts of love and companionship. Cart before the horse thoughts.
To break this dreamscape life. To see what is through my eyes. To translate these actions, these growths and their inherent pains and jubiliations. But most importantly to do it.
Voices carry over from past times. Neil Young keeps popping up. Neil’s music reminds me of a good friend. No longer among the living in the flesh. Although he is in many hearts, living in love. Remembered.
Motorcycle days are ahead of me. The excitement builds.
Enforcement of ideas and plans.
Intellect and education often only alienates and confuses.
Social patterns, real and imagined, are cow trails through the wilderness. Full of shit and pricks.
Doubt is the plague of modern man.
Youth begets Youth/Age begets Beauty
The fear, and therein the power, of being ostracized in our society is much stronger (greater) than a physical beating.
Rules are made to be exceptions to.
In the lightning flash, silhouettes are revealed.
A series of sketches, like the artist sketches his models-short poses and long- but of people, things, moments, and sunbeams. This is what I want to do? I don’t know. It seems on one hand frivolous and w/out reason. On the other it will create a series of moments perpetuated by themselves into their own eternities.
These greats truths that I know are nothing more than mere reflections of what they are understood as. How does one respect and honour reflections?
Without pain Life is dull.
Dieters like the religious when true to their calling rarely speak to preach about their calling. It is the ones who doubt that speak incessantly about it.
All I ever do is wait. Life is a series of waiting. Sometimes the pay-off is fantastic. Sometimes it’s simply a set-up for the next session of waiting. Perhaps it’s what you do while yr waiting that counts.