To what ends, pray tell...

This morning began quite early, with the dark still heavy and the moon massive like a silver dollar on the floor of an indigo fountain. I couldn't sleep at 4. Nor at 4:30. And by then it was too late.

The car was caked in ice and I headed for a steam bath at the gym, where I was the youngest of the three swimmers present.

Now I electronically cast the yarrow and come upon another pensive hexagram: Tung Jen (13) - Union of People.

The upper trigram is heaven (ch'ien) while the lower is fire (li). Both are rising and harmonize with each other. The yielding nature of one among the strength of others...

The other day a skeptic at the coffeeshop noticed my IChing and shared his skepticism in any electronic involvement, i.e., the software casting of the yarrow was bullshit. Myself, I'm not so sure. What does the IChing do except catalyze self-reflection? What does it matter where the initial prompt comes from?

That said, I've noticed generally positive results from my castings, whereas when my friend Mo cast, very deliberate and somewhat unsettling premonitions arose. Mo, I should mention, currently occupies harrowing personal space, lost as to what to do with his life next and continually moving without true objective.

I've been there. And I'd like to think I've got more of a positive thing going at the moment. Then again, I didn't sleep very well.

Heaven (Ch'ien) over Fire (Li)

The clock said 7:37, with the little dot illuminated...

That meant 7:37 pm and I was in bed with my cat. The cat was confused. Apparently he'd slept enough already today and didn't feel too inclined to take to his pillow next to my head just yet. I just lay there and thought about how shitty things are.

So there's a pot of tea on. I think a mix of a light green with a peppermint to clear the mind and body. Someday I'll make it to the soul part...

Little arroyos...

My head is heavy...

A tough morning to get up
a tough morning to leave and
a dry head with little arroyos
pour rivulets
they're not tears though I feel them
this alone fatigue

the cat hid at the door
but came running when I opened
and the cool pillow to my side
now hums through claws and tongues

recycle me this morning
and head to a horizon
body stiff and frozen
warming as would grass
at the bottom of the valley floor

I've left cities before
this time a friend takes his
leave still looking
beyond the week
and the weak
and the sleepy
in Plato's cave
chained to a flat screen
451 minutes ago

agone
then go
into the vanishing point
again and again
the point
again and again

_________________________

It's 6:30 am. OPB is just too cheery for me at the moment...
Cappuccino you're the one.

Walking slowly with a paper grocery bag in hand...

The store front was quiet, empty, dark. A few hidden red lights glazed the old wood surfaces and I remembered just how old the building was. Still I walked in,having to open m friends' humble coffeehouse or them while they took a much needed break from their heartfelt project. And somehow I'd become a shopkeeper. So many jobs over time...

Mover, waiter, bartender, innkeeper, antique salesperson, industrial part dealer, copy writer, painter, and now shop-keeper. What is it that I do anyway?

Piano Forte... Fortepiano

The invention of the pianoforte - an instrument with dynamic capabilities - changed the world of music forever. Finally to be able to emit soft tones into a build up and crescendo of force must have had a sublime effect on all those who listened at the time. Pianoforte...
I'm obsessed with binaries in that I've spent a great portion of my life viewing the world as the interplay between light and dark. The waxing and the waning of the moon as a symbol for each moment.
At the coffee shop. Sebastian the Longer coaxes out sweet sonorous Chopin melodies before chiming into the chattering clips and spurts of the Polish composer's more staccato-laden pieces.
The I-Ching virtual yarrow stalks threw the hexagram 'chin' my way. Progress.

An orange cat named Samson...

...lives in the apartment above mine. Samson's fur splays outward like spilt marmalade and now, as i watch him saunter across the tree-laden street, he seems in his odd, cartoonish element. He dives headlong into a Juniper bush flushing out a black streak of a cat who darts towards a yard further down the street.
Samson ambles back to the apartment buildings, slow and at ease.

My god, the feeling of death...

I vomited out my brains last night. I vomited them out this morning as well. A thick green, stringy fluid billowed about in the pool as every pore on my body constricted and then sweat. My head pulsed and I felt that I could die.


My time with the zombies...

my time with the zombies
flew by with stiff arms and the rich
intoxicating aroma of putrefication
my body eroded to soft tissue of uncaring
and the streets were vacant everywhere I went
never was I to see the sun
nor was there a sun to be seen
in the coarse asphalt bed I lay
wondering how the trees hadn't given up yet
I ate little things,
little things without eyes
at least that's how I remember them
there was no air there
and without air
no time
and that's how I remember
my time with the zombies

I have a third desk...

If I was in Barbados, it might be pronounced as my 'turd' desk. Considering the ankle deep mud my vehicle slopped and sunk into in order to retrieve said desk, it's somewhat appropriate.
But now it has settled into a cramped position an arm's length from my bed and I find it regal in its 60's gold-speckled sheen. I also discovered it was crafted in Tacoma, Washington. Consume local. Does that apply to hoarding as well?

Waking at 5 two mornings in a row...

The early morning has a lucidity I lose quite quickly. In contrast, even a few minutes after I begin my daily routine, a cumbersome weight of experience settles like a fine ash upon my person and I trudge around defeated.
Not everyday, but some days, in particular when I awake early and have the moments outside of Pompeii's blast radius, upwind from its legacy.
It's dark now but early in the evening.

Test-taking, test-taking take me a mindgasm...

No no, actually the GREat was anything but orgasmic. Where do they find the words? Where?

Moving on as I have a pleasant bottle of Argyle 2006 sparkling wine awaiting the chance to ephervesce... (not a word)

For Mora, who built a stained glass cannon and is working on a pump action shot gun to match:

http://www.thisblogrules.com/2010/03/fashionable-weapons-made-for-artistic-purposes.html


Does that guy know how to blog or what?

A test today, a test tomorrow...

I'm only too aware of the shakes and jitters of new situations. The bold dive, the courageous step into white space I try and find some freedom but also a trepidation which manifests in paralysis. The slowing of motor functions, the auditory diminution, and the inevitable oscillation of extremities - mainly my hands - I've all felt before.
In college I took an extracurricular course on piano. I was more committed to 'jamming' during my pate-night, solo practice sessions than I was the book, and therefore my recital at the end of the term, my simple one song performance, daunted me to no end. Come time, I bounced my feet up and down off the ground in with excited nerves to the point where my friends in the audience wondered what I was doing.
Early bar-tending gigs have done this to me as well. Hopefully when I pour some coffee down at the shop for the first time, I keep a steady hand.

The other test is one I've taken before, and really is, by name and definition, a test. The GRE, an ignoble scholastic hoop built for money-thirsty educational institutions as a means of differentiation and deterrence - never mind the money ETS receives. Anyway, busy day busy day little fish...

In dreams loneliness can dissipate...

A strange thing last night while I slept - a past lover of mine smiled, laughed then kissed me on the lips in a friendly way, saying that I'd only ceased to be a gentleman once in recent months. It was an airport and she continually walked on, just a little ahead of me as I followed, thinking her close enough to grasp finally. It never happened but the kiss was worth it.
These two fish glide back and forth. Who knows if they see each other. I suppose if you want them to, they do. If you want them to.