jpaulgorman

An illusion with a twist. A certain kind of injustice. Distractions and delays. Coordinated and arranged. Leaks, grease, and definately no glue. Hi-fi rhetorical righteousness audio. And video. A Coke for the lady! The happening described. Therapy must work. Mined the mind. For time and place, episode 1. Doctors and judges and polygraph testers. Questions and speeches and interruptions. Little things. Took none of the bait. Wormy hooks. Then the callout. Oz. Dorothy's indignation and insight. Messing with her friends. Brain games. Whirl up the fears and doubts. Even the absurd. And predictable, episode 2. Stupidity leads to gullibility. Literally.

Look up there for 5 minutes. Blow your mind. The approaching trip. Set into a future crown like a jewel. Sparkling. The way it reaches for you. Hardly a day goes by. Without noticing gravity. The urge to jump to the moon. Here and now we are here and it is now. Cling. The world is a place love can be found. Calling all people of insight. Those that think and understand. The uncelebrated. Open the curtains from your windows. Know that light will always destroy dark. The answer is up there.

     Her look is utterly unique.  She could care less and she's about to kick your inferior tennis efforts off the court.  And then she speaks.  The sweetest, most gracious, articulation set to a perfectly pitched A minor.  Naomi Osaka, Japan's native gal, America's Open Champion.  Relentless and motivated purely.  Fearless and situationally elevated.  Tireless and constantly offensive.  Excellent first serve.  Her victory over Serena in the finals was established within the lines of Arthur Ashe court.  Clearly, the cause was Osaka's beat down, the effect was the aftermath.  An aftermath that included her apologizing to the crowd for defeating the greatest athlete to walk the earth.  Square and fair.  Twice as many aces.  1 double fault to 6 for Serena, and so very Vantaggio with 4 break points won, how Champions slam the door.  Serena won 1.      Of course, Osaka's emotional control was superior.  Until the podium, when she couldn't contain it any longer.  W

Completely activated, activated, activated. My mind, my mind, my mind. Throughout the day, into the night. Only sleeping provides relief. Going crazy on the vine. Ready for good wine months ago. The rolling and returning seasons. Hanging on, going quick, hypnotized. These people with these lives. Billions of them facing a certain end. It is merely a space trip we're on. The world is a massive identified object. Cast into the endless black. Lit with exploding stars so all can see. She seems like a supernova. Cosmic, a shock wave, a molecular cloud. All for the love of others. Relations, associations, and creations.

Arrived to the crooning. The Balcony Club. Rapping drums. And keyboard smooth. Led by the bassist. Players in and out. Guitarist from Wichita. Berklee students. A San Francisco cat. In town for a visit. Remembered the west coast scene. Sweet singer came up for a standard. Her voice was pure. That backroom smell. All the pictures on the wall. A disorderly drunk kicked out quick. This was an orderly place. The chaos was in the music. Within the confines. Respect the structure. Find the way back. Clues and nods and taste. Couples everywhere. The Lakewood Theater looked sad. Empty and still. Future music will sound there. We will hear it in the balcony.

The low information people need us. Distribution of righteousness must be orderly. Our values, and all of our souls, are shook. Shook to the core. Crying that night, watching the returns. Bewildered. No one knows the future. It is all unknown and scary. The time has come for us to explain. Our brilliance is required. Even in the mid lands. Austin comes to mind. Now more than ever, our work matters. The new fiber strategy is critical and important. Evidently. We're the real business people. Taxes can't get too low. World education depends on our profits. Capitalism should be set aside. Canada awaits. The northern border is open. Could slip right through. Easy. Don't wanna live like a refugee. The pettiness. We'll take that one about charity offline. Dialogue is good. Conversations. Mums to words on the business question. No answers. Be assured, its ok to dig the don here. No hostility at all. Silicon it up in the valleys. Thank God i

Players committed, songs selected, here is the project plan for Some Dude Named Amos' unnamed debut. 1.  Into The Mystic--Van Morrison 2.  Jive Talkin'--BeeGees 3.  Sundown--Gordon Lightfoot 4.  Amie--Pure Prarie League 5.  Do It Again--Steely Dan Session 1:  Initial Jam. Players gather, the project plan is discussed and altered as appropriate so expectations are clear.  An initial jam of 20 minutes for each song.  Debrief, discussing arrangements, vocal assignments, instrumentation.  No recordings. 9.10.18 update:   5 players showed.  Matt The Bassist, JD, Neme, Chad, and I.  Amie is out.  On the lookout for fifth song.  Warren Zevon has been mentioned.  Perhaps, but no Werewolves In London.  Maybe Ooh La La by the Faces.  The other songs are a go.  Will tighten arrangements, minimize space.  Crisp and out.  For the recordings.  Chad working out the Jive Talkin' guitar solo.  I'm on shaker.  JD will provide only vocals on Do It Again.  Sundown sounds gre

With connecting dots to lines. Think ahead. The possibilities. With the end in mind. Eyes in front for a reason. Point that skull forward. Navigation is usually about going. Unless the storms cause a delay. And there are always storms. Wait them out. A mindful person is rare. Understanding the emotions involved. The past is less connected. It has merely led us here. There are no dots or lines. Just forgiveness and memories. A hazy afternoon. Time has gone, don't wish it back.

.all systems go, the ride at noon. .send in the kicking team. .put some points on the board. .before we all lose heart. .the easy way out is indifference. .then the burden is light. .like it should be. .it is better that way. .components have been upgraded. .beyond specs, evidently. .multiple gears only complicate. .go all in and all out. .til rest time. .56 hours a week. .easy sleep, tired and guiltless. .even dreamless. .save them for the waking hours. .when something can be done. .or, perhaps, undone. .this building of knowledge. .open at 10 am. .books still got the looks. .as our digital transformation continues. .clouds, look to the clouds. .they gather and build. .they sneer. .flash it some more. .we are creatures of beauty. .we like what we like. .what I am is what I am. .what we are is what we are. .like the new bohemians. .in that shallow water. .way back.