20/20 Gonzo 91: Like All Years

A deep sleep, like catatonic sleep, like the good kind, like seasonal snoozing, like years of national hibernation.  Hide the evidence, clean all the rooms, pick up the place before the company arrives.  Mop.  Mind your own dignity.  Your dignity is worthless to the world, your dignity is irrelevant to others, your dignity is your own.

These sunken, sulken, solemn people.  Slandering a year, which is merely a collection of days and seasons.  This 2020 trip around the sun has been a blast, a bust, a bummer, a ride, a roll, a rocker, a train, a trot, a test, a grind, a grin, and a groan.  Like all years.  But they are not the same, every single day is different, stamped by humanity, each brilliant with origins beyond understanding. Days and nights are miracles.

We leave the good, the bad, and all else, to others.  Suggestions are only suggested, it's well intended, independently given, independently recieved.  Agnostic in this regard, whatever, nevermind.  Smells like teen spirit to me, they are more in tune.  This is nirvana.