There is this sense I have sometimes of being hid in plain view, the complexities of being a writer what they are, I often cloak words in inference, misdirection. The mission is successful––quality prose that garners refreshingly few “eyeballs” among the dedicated readers. If I cannot take that to publishers, boosters, or follower driven revenue-meisters, that is kind of the point.
Bob Dylan, I see why he won a Nobel Prize. If the board is still awaiting a reply… read your parking meters.
Muse, music, amusing. Things that only are expressed under the influence are perhaps best left unsung (tell that to Jimi Hendrix). The natural heart and mind, not immune to herbalized insight–– tubular, chasing sun.
The Hendrixian concept of everyone coming together and bringing their own instrument. At first it would be chaos, cacophony, but pretty soon new harmonic vibrations and earth-centered ways of communication would form. Stop me if I’ve said this before––angel variations.
You still have real cowboys in Northern Mexico, no joke - two-generations-ago brethren of those who voted for Trump. They have more in common with the West and its ruggedly individualistic ways than huckster Trump and Ivanka do. That is why I don’t understand these exurban Trump cowboys very well. Either you have a pioneer spirit or you don’t.
The song about the wall is called “Separate My Soul” and it contains echoes of mid-60s West Coast garage rock, Argentinian corazon, and a RHCP streetside pulse. In my head, mind you. Hopefully I can pull it off. Playa de Tijuana studio feelers out there…
My goal is to make enough money so that I only need to be online one day a week. There are so many interesting live human interactions to be had. Don’t get me wrong, Device Exists. But does it control us? And does it disable in-depth discourse?
The slow one asked how he could get to the root of everything. The wise one answered, by speeding up. Change gears, expose yourself to new experience––sip carefully from creation’s grail.