a prize for itching the scratch

It turns out it has been a long time. Settling the accounts of hometown wounds, exploring the champagne problems of living lightly with a little money to burn and more money to steer my boat where I want to go, not just where I have to. It is, in fact no less irritating than having no options. But this does not mean I am not infinitely grateful for the spill in my lap, but that strange American? Dream that all things get fixed at some point, and "then I will be done" is a no show. All Hail the adaptability of the Human to still live and interact and to want and desire and be unhappy. My flesh, my waking life, my love to love it is all bubbling to surface, my meditative trance of survival is dissipating into happy little clouds. And now the fierce visionary women I claim as i unpacked the sparkled trunks of a lifetime surrendered to storage years ago have come to rain in my spain. And I believe I can dance all night again.

Boomzilla and the art of automagically.

At some point permission is granted. YES I CAN.  My life is unfolding as I design it because I want to do things and represent and dream the impossible dram of art and love and making my life my own again. Somewhere  started to find rules. To trust in the take away. The prize of rehab from a mad mad world. I have never related to but how found the amusement (bewildering) nature of an unnatural craft of careless trumpeting in the streets of bloody strife and struggle. Right now there are children in process of breaking their dreams or realizing them as they hone and flash moments of solid perfection in feats of pure technical achievement. I watched a tiny girl twist and float through the air as only a child could do. She smiles as she sticks the landing she was perfect. I am not perfect but yet i still have a waking dream of perfection, it spills into what is me as a lifestyle, a relationship, work, friends, a night out, and deserved night in, my family and my sense of legacy and even the retort of a cultural movement I am creating for the paper ghost of purrrrrfect? i/ once sat in a seat and struck up a stranger with my ideas and my projects, i took his picture and he he asked me where  i could buy my stuff or something like that, i didn't have an answer and he shook his head, what a shame i wasn't prepared. My heart broke and i felt a cave of time crush my skull, he told me that all things should be effortless. I hang my head and as would be Olympians push deeper into breath taking feats of competition, I swoon to the mystic call of effortless grateful for any glimpse of being the luckiest girl AKA automagically.