Yesterday I had me one hell of a good time playing some music for the people. I think I could get used to this.
And so the morning has been splendid. MY girl’s telling me that even my skin’s looking good. It could be the sunlight. Could be the moon from last night. Bob Dylan is singing Rollin’ and Tumblin’ and talking about funky characters who don’t play games, outside of New Orleans. A cat he met in a speciality shop ‘round there. I’ve had similar encounters, especially in that part of America.
I’m digging this paper and pen touch today. Sometimes it feels better than the laptop since I can only look at an electric screen for so long.
Still last night had me feeling some kind of way. Feeling good. And the moon never looked so aware. Even keen.
I come out into the kitchen to write.
This feeling of ease is an incredible feeling. Where every moment and movement and decision feels like butter. If I maintain the practice it will only get easier, and the second guess will be a thing of the past. I’m writing this next piece on my knee ‘legs crossed like a cool cat’. and I’m back in the garden. I’m back in my garden and I’m playing the blues. Yea, we’ve got that bluesy croon playing again. It’s good to be home.
So I’m thinking of Jude Moonlight. He’s in Las Vegas of all places. But the whole episode can be utilized as a window through time. He’s just seen a hypnotist, and nothing is at it seems. Everything feels like it’s up for grabs. He’s walking through a hall of smoke and mirrors. The air is stifling and Las Vegas is nothing but apocalyptic, but he makes his way to the Mirage hotel and he meets the girl named Isis. She’s familiar, a face from long ago childhood, even though it wasn’t that long ago. It’s just that everything feels like eternity to him, after passing through the eye of the cyclone in West Texas.
The music sounds wonderful
The coffee is sublime
My girl
Telling me about some new
skin cream it’s
got Vitamin C
supposed to be real good for you
she says
I’m welcome to try some
I love Her.
Our home is looking beautiful
as ever.
I’m finding it real nice to write like this. In the morning sure but with the time-frame for the sake of structure. The little white cube with different frames per side all with their own designated time. It’s really useful. It’s a great exercise that I recommend for anybody anywhere. Bob Dylan’s singing for Beyond the Horizon.
Last night I took a long walk. The long walk. The silverlake walk from where I stood on Normandie Ave to Fountain, along Fountain Ave to Sunset Boulevard, which is my favorite part of the walk.
There’s no right
or wrong
simply what I write
(first)
because it’s fresh
in that moment
and that’s Who I Am.
I took Sunset to Santa Monica, then continued along Santa Monica Boulevard back to Normandie Avenue. That’s what I like to do. That’s what I’m gonna do.
It makes sense
It makes sense that I would write that verse from the spot on Sunset where I stood on the bridge
in Silverlake
‘hipster paradise’ maybe
but to me
something big, for
I saw the whole city
from the spot where I stood
atop the bridge
overlooking an empty street
like it might be just for me
leading into secret places
deeper wilds of paradise
into parts unknown
Let’s go
oh how the moon
that city
river moon
it so brightly shone
“He was the right guy to run into at the right time, a guy who grooved on his own head.”
Ren Michael 