Aug 26

Writing from inside a tunnel, with soft lighting, less harsh free-for-all and limited attention to consumer inhibitions. I may never have hung up paper lanterns had you not reminded me of their possibility. Hands sore currently from overdoing bass exercises. No matter. Everything worth doing requires effort. Mental or physical. If it comes to you without; you do not deserve it. Drink a coke and go for a run. Cut back sugar and tobacco. Find yourself surrounded, walled-in by relatives holding body-length mirrors, they are hiding on the other side laughing quietly, faint, barely audible in a dark corridor. Something the length of a football field, a meadow of grey flowers and burnt-umber sky, some place prior to the arrival of color... Full room for entire ancestry tracing back to the first molecule of your grey matter. That first divided amoeba. Apart from the rest, suddenly manifests motive and calls life into action. Jab my back with small needles until I can come the hell down.