Slapstick and my Cold Kicks

We're all animals that dine at a lifetime's table. The Dalai Lama related a teaching, saying, the deer drinks replenishing water - the stream can't be missed, becomes invisive - why say she does so for you? And within the conference of taste that indicates a thoroughly on-going feast, how the victuals of experience are praised and adjured, reckons a level that may be in agreement with our vitality of mirth. Our minds compartmentalize, some calling everything of an eschaton's nod at our future station, the heaven and hell's target to our laments. If one were to imagine an encounter of full-on eudaimonia, instincts almost allow for a caprice in prostration to something or someone as a complete vehicle or plain embodiment of life's ambition to be happy. Except, how else would one encourage our privileged own happiness than to project and vibrate-on as anything but a goal of identity's sake, and rather approach this world barely lasting in conspiracies' riddled loss just as the years divide us from tribulations blameable to that of an argued Absolute, political, social or universal (whatever that may mean) bound to be trialed by chaos, as confident episteme from the case of our unknowing! Catastrophes and holocausts have endowed our pillow armies with the meaning of greedy survival, why does everything and everyone have to be complicit in those sulky and fiendish moral battles? All Lives Matter, but the plain disambiguation of that fact is that Black Lives Matter as a community implicit to our goal of American Exceptiionalism, whose dream and implementation should be born to our shared Democracy.

*************To look up into tree canopies determines the most ethereal breath I can take; where else as unbothered is the whole day in the swathe of such objective pneuma? And their polygon splays of light, lovely through amelioration of sharp eyes, designed to play in apposite mirthful intensions plain upon silent ground, dance among the most recent of our perceptual fetters rattling so to be matched by expression. But I'm frozen, hexed by meaning, swayed to feel these agonist hypnoses common to me, imagining ravenous sentient greed, I'm the game of conscious Hangman toward a world awakening like an ocean's swell refractalizing its climate maker's glimmering message, that slowly and by a mounting effort second nature objects enumerate by invading the present as if their dust becomes their washed away garment of this here colorfield immediacy. Immediate, now, but with the grace of the world of things lopping comfortably ever-was and by an eternal saunter their lauded velocity into its summoning, their encounter etches its surveillance as slowly as one traces leisure from a star sometimes obscured by shadows of rescue.***********Drumpf's son promotes "deplorable" symbols representing the furthest Right view to append White Superiority, Drumpf himself lauds completely insane racists and conspiracists like Alex Jones and somehow our unfortunately bamboozled political opponents engage this "conversation" willing to break present institutions, intensify blindly toward an abstract come vile power, till we're divided and conquered, classist even moreso in that Corporations are granted personhood satisfying their only argument imagining Democrats wholly irresponsible of a Job One way forward. Read the tea leaves Conservatives, you're making moves to deny the existential reality of our plural union - sweet to the taste of a history that ought not be erased, and teachable within institutions which may reflect this Union. Why? Divided by a corporate ethos where the government can no longer help to protect the environment that we share and ought not exploit, and employees working full-time but who barely obtain a standard of living to make it out of poverty, somehow sounds-out a Liberal Agenda not Huge enough, not a Great American Dream to awaken from ...lulling in the vast washes of our population that can make sense to this completely self-absorbed Billionaire and his Fearful of the Other constituency. Brother and sisterhood trumps hate.

************Got nothing to do, then read. Bored, ready for life? Get an ole book made of trees and sit there and pretend you're not stupid. And pretend that your emotional entreaties don't need an exacting encounter with someone or some subtlety where your pretending really does cause you grief. You think, well, the flow of your norm isn't just any kind of myth, but, you must admit, it has to be your concession that psychologically you've paid all the cost, you've stimulated all manner of extremis in contact with the soothing of egoity's flagging the project of your worth: there's the real news - all your changes have usually been written down...! Read because it is your developing meditation called analytical meditation. While that has provision as a goal in itself, I would call meditation observable release between warm receptions and a sense of my raw soul, sensory metricating and jumping past self-preservation in thoughts endorsing whatever. Reading just whatever then denying the author her or his intuitions because now their idea-force is become your mantram of mere feeling determines an appositive from enduring the multiplying content implied upon an ever deepening misappearance of wholeness. Putting an illuminable foot upon attention only by safekeeping an amorphism in an unbearable likeness of being is cultivating differences and change through a very human game of mnemotechniques, the art of forgetting.*******************Just so I think if language in some subtle primary effect I might presume in the sense of a young mind or one laden by frustration is its sequencial concern and surprise iconography in getting present, this natural relationship that leisurely offers a control on time's more ironic control on us as incremental as dunes evolving around our thirsty dreams. It looks easily magnified in literate thought drawn of the coming single word setting off my need for an extrarational sentence. As this word contoured of nothing else than a material hope plies a certain median magic, one word of instinct that the next in line only modifies the last, One inflates Two details, but can't improve beyond Three and so on. This mind. As a little boy, before literacy, really as wonder of world comes to its details, I walked Laurel Grove where we lived, down to Quail Creek to climb the dirt mounded up from all the new construction of our neighborhood, glad among ant colonies belching through earthen qualities of an importuning all living environment. Among tractors sleeping off-limits, piles of lumber, bricks, refuse and houses unfinished, seeing their flesh exposed invertedly of Pink Panther insulation, all this encouraged conscious parrying among spirit bodies speaking through appearances in their silent garments. I'd play King of the Hill standing amid flagging but sometimes exercised subtle bodies, comparing in wont of islands in the stream the heights of my more formidable conscious success, and I understood, fate is aweful and immediate and it is all other.

******************Here's the "don't give me too many facts" Contrarian's Party (the Right) rarely making it to the table splayed of reality's victuals and not the Oughts to their concretions of Tradition, and not least of all the oh so frightening Scientism occurring to concerned and well-informed brother and sisters of the dundering bereft to honest Faith, where Global Climate Change is ignored. While one ought to by point and discussion recognize this sense of American Exceptionalism which would meet its denouement for change, for whom like apes banging branches at us but now with their (d)evolved gun waged toward an unforgiving opportunity, they accede in threatening their political opponents and in yet another way they've come to specialize in destroying the very institutions meant to help. Drumpf slavers over media feeling fully capable that we would imagine he's a perfectly fashionable product of our cause accompli to that of a flag-waving demagoguery just as one's thinking is lost to classist babble and ironies of a loved Machine racketing in Identity Games is uncarveable to any warm sentience. He watches demonic summoning of those artifacts with the greed of Belief, White Nationalism and nothing so wrong that it has become obvious to you.************* I know an inmost route of mosquitoes measuring thought's burgeoning, grounding me on some rare conscious couch, the questions in my nerves are lit and bleed me, amounting to the solemn repair of body out of Dylan's edenic map - Arya and their Others or Semitic then Arabi marshes - body arrived, the last place of any acquisitive bullshit desolved, one would reify in physical success. In True Democracy convention I take to my porch more usually ...take a call there so to telegraph the day more clearly. The wisest consensus, more better calls, have been these absolute spirits telling me, Drink the Kool Aide, who says the taste of it apprehends or disestablishes the lateral taste among its realistic table set? Imagine this episteme's vehicle of a determined model for a Mind beclothed in the Sky, raw to those figures for a thoroughgoing vitality, visualization, merging with appearances. An abstract world of convenience, those preferences for self-preservation are all on the menu (and conspire or even suggest), so stop conflating appetite, put the menu down and just eat. Feed your mind and give away what it grows. Have a heart improvising on its motherly banks - in the swamp and heat of such prized certainties - to heal where you've thrown yourselves in consummate relationship; beware of this self-consciousness from less grasping but with more passion's tantric hand on expression.************* There is always this mind game I cultivate so to stir up my senses and being able to gainsay memory after the ways of it becoming disadvantaged, I'm amid the world arising in catapultian letters. I lure and learn over words acquiring depth while seeing its empirical shores lay bare certain burning sands of perception that are smoothed back at the realisms of my vaguely antagonized tabula rasa and usual thoughtlessness by too hard of an inmost scrutiny. Like marring embers, humbly, I just play with words. I chase the run-away current in this sensitivity to my reifying model depicting a mind-sore of always late thoughts truant by communication. Just now I'm watching Eugen Weber doing The Western Tradition discovering our civilizational antecedents, where Egypt at her most thoroughgoing metricate for a history anyone is glad to edutain, 3000 years in one leg of her portent African soul vending is stolid and as magical as a tree in human contentment for survival - 3000 years! And Americans have begun this examination of Freedom for merely 300 some years, that at least within our ranks we might Live and Let Live if history could provide reason and juridical truth and insist by improving our public institutions. From Judeo-Egyptian idiosyncratic hagiographia I can dream a voice emergent like this rather wizard-ridden bogied donkey acting-out in its mantram bray contesting the on and off again seer ancient Hebrews prop up as a trickster or prophet in granting blessings and truths of wonderful or dire fates, implores Balaam, only to mean, Go back from this mountain pass! ...this equid's intuitions are superable to the language of your signs and your coming encantations.

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