10.1.22

I’m guessing most humans get side tracked by trying to decipher older notes and scribbles meant to be meaningful additions to their personal repertoire. 

Random thoughts are very clear.


Expanding knowledge from a cereal box - every morning it’s the next biggest thing.


A lampshade has been put on the dancer this time and the Marley floor has been washed with soda as to warn the audience with tac-tacking steps. Keeping the butts awake in case they do not see the long shadows cast from their own seats.


Itchy trigger fingers not waiting for a queue — aiming only to be noticed.  Not a very good reason to fire.


The evolution of the calendar. What type of personality wakes up in the morning with the thought of changing a calendar - what some people do in the name of science others do just for kicks.


Daylight dispels the phantoms of the night. But in these dark hours are we a generation of dreamers? Or, were we born to a  generation of dreamers.


Walking a desolate shore high on a dune. Presently kiosks appears scattered about near the water — creating ritual opportunities. I can see a few tiny folks decorating with bleached paper monarchs they take from bamboo cages.

Others catch up to me and I become a group, then, the converging crowd overtakes me, walking faster toward the origami monarchs as the delicate wings come to life down near the shore  ... The butterflies and ceremony at the waters edge have been supplanted with the masses and my friends presently have woven deep within the sandy mob. 

I can almost keep up, but am relishing the view from afar.