Reading Erich Fromm and Alan Watts to get down with the nitty-gritty of being, counting the dollars I take from Rose’s labor to eat and drink every day, practicing good breathing, chewing flavorless gum, and triple taping my mouth shut at night… Mid-January, 2023—31 years, 9 months, 7 days and 14 hours away from my self-chosen corpse-making date, and I am just beginning to learn that the universe is one like my ring finger and amygdala cannot exist without car headlights and the moon. Just touching upon these new sensations. There are many months and 31 years or sooner to stop thinking about thinking.
Thoughts come and go. We got skunked again last night. 3 a.m. Turn off the heat, open the windows, the cat vomits, eyes sting, nostrils are peaved that the mouth is taped. Nothing but brown rice this weekend because my intake cost is near and I want to drink beer at band practice tonight. William, you’re invited to stop by and sniff skunk with us. BYOB cause I won’t spend a dime over my self-imposed hair shirt allotment.
Thoughts and paintings, scattered. First old skunks and then new stuff up to skunk snuff.
Back to the present. Some pictures made this week while the universe peopled and de-peopled, tree’d and de-treed, skunked and (I pray) de-skunked lots (at least in my neighborhood).
Just Another Stream Streaming
Self-grammar-policing: I missed the " after "comes"*
"Something 2023," indeed! It's like the "something wicked [that we know too well] this way comes -- except, this time, it arrives a little less wicked than the thing we'd been braced for, because it's a Throop-engendered being! 💙