We have things to say about morning Con/Jur/d, 12/18/2024 Don't know why we insist often to do our favorite chemicals first thing, Guess the cigarette hunched over on the rectory roof No matter the weather before coffee, (she once said, you can't count your steps to go find somewhere to smoke, demonstrating she doesn't know how the body and brain of habitude works different. ) And was watching an object floating above the Southern Bay towards San Mateo, past the ill reputed SOMA’s, toxic naval shipyards filled with chemicals, standardized progressive in the 40s and the Object hovering, years before drones were Common and gaps between stars dominated, and we said “Holy Shit” and behind and up the wall we lent against top o’ crenelation where the priests hid their heating/cooling pipes echoed ‘Holy Shit’ and giggles; they've been up all night tripping, and for them this will be remembered as a hallucination one of those things were we dragged in? our singular observer synching with the consensus, an unidentified light, HOVERING, in the sky whose origins were clearly between the brows, between tobacco smoke, a glowing cherry brighter than the just rising sun The City awakes, amoral and glorious our aloneness, abruptly a community experience, as it ALWAYS is even when we indulge in solipsism pretend our lonely is absolute devoid of universality, free of laughter and giggling from above.
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 12/18/2024
That headless Buddha is awesome.