far away from the cares of others,
upon a sun-drenched wind-swept field of soft, uncut grass,
under the shade of a sheltering willow tree,
you say: “I have an awesome pussy.”
i nod and say: “i see.”
And we celebrate,
imaginatively,
without further spoken pleasantries.

I am in a mood where I am succumbing to the tortuous tease of beautiful women loose and large.  “Ground Control to Major Tom, your circuit’s dead--is there something wrong?  Can you hear me Major Tom?  Can you hear me Major Tom?...”

I awoke much this way.  So what transpired in the sleep of the night to set me on the edge?

The dream I awoke from...I was faltering, fading into an unrecognizable terrain.  There was a post--something like a huge mushroom stalk without the cap.  Only it was covered with cloth and bound with cords or straps.  I was grabbing onto this post for bearing, just a little orientation when a guide spirit informed me that not until I almost entirely collapse would a woman come to my assistance.  A woman, just a woman?  Not just a woman--but a woman in intimate relationship.  Aha! I thought.  Until now I’ve been too strong for the approach to a relationship.  Always active, always on the move, never faltering, never giving in.  Time to give in, suggested the guide spirit.  Time to go down.

“...Cause I’m close to the edge....I’m about to loose my head. Huh-huh-huh.”

Time to level it.  Level like the outer skin of the atmosphere.  Level with the hum of health that believes in the body’s own wisdom.

just jottings...madly inspired, wine-inspired, tossed here aside, raw and unfinished, to provide you an insight into my primitive mind...

death as a participation in life: Lindburgh contemplating crashing into the sea: as immersement in the life of the sea.

finding the endpoint of life within oneself as the measure of individuation.  but also a premature determination of the endpoint of life as oneself  as a form of modern social pathology.   This prematurity consisting of cutting the social ties prior to sanifying initiation  in a growingly complexifying society.  This society has increasingly blurred the distinction between freedom and adriftness;  and now increasingly casts out (hence, makes outcasts of) those who due to lack of supporting mechanisms (nurturing neighborhoods, initiating structures, individuating opportunities) waddle adrift in their search for democracy's promise of freedom.

consider America's obsession with "dirt", i.e., the profane intimate lowdown on people's faults, frailties, and pathological proclivities as a measure inversely proportional to its genuine appreciation of the land as sacred, i.e., "dirt" as the source and return of life.  Signifying the obsession: the once willingness of media to contract with Oprah Winfrey, mistress of sensationalism,  1/2 billion dollars for 7 years of dirt digging.

 Nature as love's absorption.  Nature as the organic charcoal filter to social and mental delusions.  Potential and seeming synchronicity as a strictly personal truth (unshareable) unless the touch, the expression, and the relationship is unambiguously established.

  this thought: act like the world owes you something and it will abandon you forthwith; act like you have something to give the world and it will quite likely embrace you like an only child.

The current media-hyped cultural expression of American femininity as a sham; the concurrent media-hyped cultural expression of American masculinity as a concomitant sham--co-conspirators in shamdom.