i watched a band concert night before before last. The music was a mix of their long history together. It is interesting to hear watershed work. Pulling from such a vast corpus must be overwhelming — the possibilities to pick + choose + rework what you did not get right the first time, what remains relevant + what changing one word will make relevant now.

A valuable attribute. 

Ah yes! It is bravery when risk is recognized. 

Risk ... fear ... whatever it is ...  a reminder to face it, acknowledge it, + move forward.

 

The Hanzon Studio has used the term Ready-Fire-Aim figuratively over the years. + literally a sign was placed above a door a few decades ago —  one would involuntarily bow to pass under it. In layman’s terms it proclaimed the ability to start before you are altogether ready in order to initiate a beginning. 

i am thinking that it is nice not sit with nerves any longer. Nervous may be in fashion from time to time. It seemed amazing to me years ago, to hear if you don’t give it too much attention, this nervous thing eventually goes away. It has ended up true. Now i wait for that sickly feeling of dread. But the worry never comes. i am not jaded, just at ease. What remains is the slow burn of excitement.

My butterflies use to want to know what to do. Now they no longer need to.

                                                                      

It's not just me, right? 

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

Random thoughts are very clear.

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

A lampshade has been put on the dancer this time + the marley floor has been washed w/ soda as to warn the audience w/ tac-tacking steps. Keeping the butts awake in case they do not see the long shadows cast from their own theater 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 w/ the thought of changing the yearly calendar? What some people do in the name of science others do just for kicks.

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

Walking on a dune, i look down onto a desolate shore. Presently kiosks magically appear scattered about near the water — creating ritual opportunities. i can see far off folks taking bleached paper from bamboo cages + folding it into large monarchs.

Others heading toward the shore catch up to me. 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 butterfly ceremony at the waters edge has been supplanted w/ the masses that presently have woven deep w/in the sandy mob. 

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