creature of celestial tongue

i woke to voices sung high in some distant land. they touched into my subconscious and drew me headlong into the world to carry out this mission. to build a creature of feathers and cotton and infuse it with such love that, when called upon by a touch of the paw, it may invoke these celestial notes, opening its half-sewn mouth for to give us all we need to go on another day.

#mission

I live inside a certain closed system wherein one is not trusted, one is held accountable to high standards which are enforced relentlessly by teams chosen based on work ethic and other high quality merit marks, to oversee the delivery of services to the general public. Sometimes I question my decision to live there for it is not always a friendly place. What I love is how I am challenged and pushed to my limits, and not one day ever looks like the next. It is an exciting and dynamic environment, and because I have earned rank and respect over time, I do have freedoms and work is creative. I care for my team and am mostly aligned with the mission.

real.ity

I am on a mission to find reality. I won’t find it in my phone or in the dark. I cannot find it alone, nor in a crowded park. I step into my jeans my boots my leather jacket pulled around my hoodie. Here behind the wheel, eyes open and coffee steaming at my lip, waiting for this old train to pass through town, exhaust smoking in the cool morning air. A smile pulls over my face cuz I know I am real with you. Yesterday we ran. Today I’m gonna break out the draft of my book and mark it up somethin’ fierce. What is real? We are. We are real.

Journal # 04.04.17

Good to get yourself on ‘a mission from god’  (Akroyd and Belushi). Or a mission from the buddha, or just on a spiritual mission. You can rise above this mundanity, all the plastic bullshit we encounter out in the world. I tell you what! I would not even get out of bed and didn’t!  For several years rarely! I was shooting plastic into my arm. I was snorting plastic up my nose. I was fucking plastic dummies! I was smoking plastic. I was seeing plastic. I had to railroad myself into my personal mission from god. god was lowercase matte finish and unrefined. god had to be a weed that would drop roots and take hold. god only came when i fertilized my soil with shit. Wet plasticine dream semantics. And that’s why I do what I do. Not that I don’t love you. I do. You deserve every bit as much higher altitude, greater bandwidth consciousness as anybody. Settle at your own risk. I did and I could not get out of bed anymore. What gets you out of bed in the morning? The answer was nothing. Maybe plastic for a time. Still I decided to live, I don’t know why. 12.12.12 came and went, and my heart kept pushing the blood through my extremities. My altitude was underground. So I was an unusual kinda freak and I’m sure I still am. But I was no pushover and they would have to make room for me. I ate my spinach and took my pills, so I could get out of bed and get on a mission. The mission was clear. You see it everyday. You can find me. Right here…