i dreamt that my nightingale died. he may well have, i wouldn’t know. I know what that says about my psyche, but I don’t want that.
my friend was diagnosed with schizophrenia and estranged herself from her 2 year old daughter and husband. she divorced him and she’s refusing medical help. some suspect she is on meth. I know what this says about her psyche, too.
there are bombs dropping and ripping children and families apart, literally and figuratively. We are dropping the bombs. We all know what this says.
i refuse to sit in the sadness that is provoked by the aftermath of all these bombs.
the morning after the bomb, i always prefer to give it the middle finger
while my pinkies swear to live my fullest.
today, in memory of you, i will fill my day with the following:
Listen to our music (Rach 3, mingus, jaco, al dimeola, parker, bill evans, weather report, John mclaughlin) skip rocks, catch cray fish, dance, go to concerts, visit art exhibits, climb rocks, weave flower head wreaths, play xbox (banjo and kazooie first, then mario golf, then pirates), eat popcorn, watch comedians, listen to new music, jump, ignore arrogant people, find kind souls, write more complicated music, pray, eat chocolate, use black lights, use red lights, burn incense, learn more bird songs, eat a banana provocatively, study angles and angels, and study more paintings and techniques just so i can talk to you about it in the afterlife.