Relative Absurdity, the blessing and a call to duty: leftcoasting

Has Paul Goodman changed my life?

Maybe maybe it is all a windfall as I'm being bathed in blessings that keep hammering out as frustrations, It is a question of money and starting over.... where to begin the begining of reprise. Am I refueled in my wake of Denver double down trauma and neglect and as the west comes knocking at my door with the glimmer of my previous work and the promise of peace and mutual respect and understanding, I was once honor bound to serve my east coast army of intellect, yet it is my body that welcomes the Sun and the ocean and the bursting color bands of joy and idealism the frantic push of dreams held by millions of the city of Angels and I find my self glamorized as well to discover myself as a woman again.

Still with a greater plan and a sense of urgency for the end of calendar the magnetic pulse of the crystal by which I was created, tonight I unfolded to a documentary on Paul Goodman a less known elder statesman writer philosopher that fueled the 60s and I was intrigued at how familiar it all sounded, an anarchist writer pacifist bi-sexual that was an intellectual by trade and was ensnarled by the question of where do we start and go from here? My cultural rehab is a rehashing of this open prayer to societal wounds and I beg to hear a reason, a conversation and I am pledging that I will not neglect you arts and spirit and culture, that I am ever your puppet to escape into 3d being and the will of my flesh is a figment of mastery as I heal sexually emotionally and mentally through the act of documentation and the experience of risk. I open the head and heart to a parade of musings for I have been away challenged and ashamed. Tonight I whisper the lullaby of loved for as I belong to nothing I am always at home in my heart.