jpaulgorman

++Came in low and early, before the wave, before the simmer, before the sizzle. ++They will burn off quick, those north moving clouds. ××Then the clicks everywhere, the freeze brain, fans and mists. ××Watch it blue up, like the gulf waters of Galveston, out of nowhere. ÷÷The inland life, let the sweat shake out in the swamps, let the mud creatures get muddy, let them have it. ÷÷Build on the hills. --The floods will come back one day. --For now, extreme degrees and ozone colors. ==Acclimate like the birds do. ==Sing when the sun rises, eat late, play the wind.

As usual, the ride was smooth.  Shaded trails with curves and dips.  Cutting through the thick woods, full of lowlands and wetlands.  Along Wilson Creek, then up the hill, to the cotton mill.  Watching out for poisonous water moccasins.  They are all around here.  For now.  Arrived thirsty, a bike race was under way.  We wheeled through the crowd and the marked off track without stopping.  Through to the brewery.  The black, the wheat, the make-it-a-double. The operation, ever changing, ever growing.  Organically, and from without.  The iron art foundation, layered with modern creations, music always.  The PA plugin is all.  No DJ, no spinning, no talking, some heavy metal.  The back patio, covered with tin.  Fountain.  Cool corner, outside lounge.  The wino bottle tree, the monikers.  Organized the parts yard, spruced up just enough.  Fermenting more and more, innovating processes, am...

Just at the right time, at the perfect time, the fruit is ready.  The ripening process.  Survived the winds, sat up high enough, those low hangers were just unlucky, and the fate of the dropped is awful.  The whole ruin process stinks.  Ants and their running around and nerves.  The queens must be demanding.  No rest.  No relaxation.  Sitting in the middle, firmly attached to the tree.  Strong limbs, sunlight gets through mid morning and afternoon, the heat's not so bad.  Early dews and plenty of water.  Sprayed good for pests, bugs, and the like.  Chemicals.  No spoiling, only tended and farmed.  Only preparing.  Invested in the yield.  Harvest time will come, but not yet. Then, one day, when glory has been reached, when taste is at its best, the plucking.  Cleaned and washed, wrapped in white, and sent away in a limousine.  Unspoiled.  Full of vitamins, essential ingredients, and flavor...

And from the bushes, music. Golden and really riffy. The crew cut warrior squinted. The colosseum was around them. Canines rested and watched, panting. Musical instruments were all around. Horns, strings, gongs, and chimes. And oh, the chimes did chime. Then circles upon circles upon circles. And a streaking white line. Glares beneath the shades. Upside down, counting. The bizziness of the business people. Such a waste. Unhealthy and destructive. Proven over and over, time after time. It's only money, and money is easy. The suckers, the worried, the insecure. They will spend their days worshiping it. Things are afforded, things are deserved. Floating in judgement, silently. No shock, no surprise. Scattered and cleared, only blue now. And cool.

Sensing other matters as priority, tucked back into the literary corner.  Not to work something out, clear thoughts, or provide any therapy to the situation.  No, more of an indulgent, and indignant, acting upon an opportunity of time.  This word habit, this tapping, this quiet paragraph. Round the edges smooth, level the scene.  Go sharp and quick, the structure should be respected.  Early on, especially.  Abstractions come from it, not the other way around.  Keep the beat.  Seperate truth from speculation, distinctly.  Imagination and style.  Facts and a few figures.  Quotes. The candle, the lamp, the sun.  Light the way.  Glow.  Digital documentation and cloudy archives.  A place to write.  Know when to break.  Feel it.  An unfinished something.  Will never write the last word.  Or the loveliest word.  Or the most true word.  That is left to others.  At another time...

Construction of the progress.  Never ending.  Mother nature has her evolutions and she has her eruptions.  Boulders flying, lava creeping, the earth is smoking.  Clever they are, the doomers.  The science they invent, so uncreative.  We spun slower then, our trip was longer.  The age of the ageless.  Easy, restful.  Then a cosmic collision, a bump in the night.  The air collapsed, some life escaped, spans diminished, heaven is near.  Less is more.  It is better, our sorrows are brief.  From the little big horn til now, our entitled rights.  Our destiny.  Our greed.  Like the stashers, the grubby selfish, like the true person in all of us.  A precarious road.  The southwestern way, the direction of the Baja.  The Pacific blues, where the sun disappears perfectly.  Perfectly, every day.

"Empire Memories" by jpg ...these thoughts in my head. Weirdly, all being translated in real time from Italian.  Keep cash in the front pocket.  Walk the old Roman roads, rent a Vespa GS160, drink only wine and water.  Avoid the dust, it is full of empire memories.  Don't faint...  "Lefty" by PeoplesDuke Returned from the night out.  Witnessed a street brawl outside a trattoria.  50 meters from the Trevi Fountain.  Keck says "a fight".  I look forward and see 6 people squared off and fighting 3 on 3.  Tables get knocked over and women and kids are screaming.  Next thing I see is a "lefty" holding a fully cocked bottle of wine.  He hurled it at the head of his opponent.  Opponent ducks and the bottle comes straight at us and shatters at our feet.  The chards of glass and wine spray towards us hitting our legs and soaking my shoes.  I jumped into a small leather goods shop while Keck continued to watch the...

D7Cx3 G Venus and its shining light. At the center of all our nights. Goes the other way around the sun. Beautiful view. We all know, the secret's out. Fighting wars on shaky grounds. Won a battle, but we're never done. Just old and used. Everyone gotta different take. Think it through in an altered state. Analyze that piece of your mind. That makes it blue. Lets all get together in love. Have no fear and never give up. Vibing, vibing, shaking and jiving. We always knew. CCD7D7x3 G Ooohhh....

Pay attention. Worried faces and grumpy grumblers. Look into the world, see it from out there. Obsessions and small minds. Covered in dirt, tasting of boredom. At any time, in any place, with or without interpreters, did you ever talk to a Russian? Tell us more. Clarify please, was it Russian fish or Russian fishing you discussed? Both, o.k. Sputnik was 61 years ago, cosmonauts and astronauts, from Ike and Stalin, to Reagan and Gorbachev. The cold Reds and their old iron grip on Eastern Europe. Money ran out in 91. It is a modest country, mostly. Now, they know, deep down, that capitalism is the way forward. Middle classes. Figuratively, fires burn within them. Glowing and red.

Blood flows through the body, filling veins with needed elements to function.  Air is essential, oxygen and its big O.  From trees, from all around, in the water, ice, and steam.  The atmosphere is under pressure, the mounting carbons, the diminishing ozone.  Constant evolution, survival, and life.  Never just a rock, that is for other places.  Intelligence and souls live here.  Knowledge increases over time, exponentially.  The discoveries to come are indescribable, they are inevitable, they are magnificently mellow.  Time has no value, the end of it marks the beginning of perpetual existence.  Where linear thinking is impossible, where understanding makes us selfless, where fear has no place.  It will not be here.  This is merely an incubator of sorts, complete with climate control and nurses at the ready. Learn how to play nice, boys and girls.  Sit quietly and eat your snack.  Walk in a straight line.  H...