“Another night of little sleep — Alcohol is the trigger — The gunpowder however is my memories invoked by these images from the past although me now, has a hard time taking ownership — as if someone else experienced all of this”
“It’s so easy for us to become confused — Hard to move with and deeper into confusion without grabbing onto delusions of solidity, knowing — Further compounding the inversion of Wake/Sleep is the solidity of the time compared to our virtual, imaginal, disposable culture — The books on the handcrafted shelf are still with me — The picture of Santa and child on the top of the shelf is closer to the original color than the photo I held this week, where the impact of over a half-century of time has transformed it changing ‘green’ to ‘red’ — If you're confused by what I mean, pick up this post, hold it — How does it feel? How does it smell? — What are we thinking? What are we holding? — Which is dreaming? Pictures and words without heft or odor? Or copper, wood, clay, ceramics, and Kodack film stock? — I really don’t know so take my word for it”
Well, y’all another sleepless night. In a few days, I’ll be on an adventure, hopefully, being in California during the middle of it.
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