I wonder at what/which point the edits overwhelm the reality of the original.
Do you know?
If so, please tell us.
O and om 🐱
there are a few cards in the deck (tarot) that express the querents need to take the reigns; ‘the chariot’ card, as an example. the chariot card asks us to literally “put your damn hands up and steer the motherfu**ing wheel in order to reap the best possible scenarios for the future.
ive pulled the chariot card from the deck. i had a 1/78 chance to do so.unless you believe, like i do, that the cards we pick are a perfection of destiny’s message from beyond. so fate picked my card. i understand what the card asks of me. but my proverbial buggy wheels are rust and crumbling compliments of the a lifetime of inaction coupled with the unforgiving ravages of passed time. they will not turn.
the cards may be asking me to take my wheel. break this inaction. yet every choice we have made lately makes us feel as if we have stepped further and further back from the yoke. odie waits for me at home all day. while im gone i feel im watching the movie of my life as series of wholly uninteresting and disassociated pictures-a slow motion slide show we dislike viewing. a poor script indeed.
worse yet, we dont know why we feel this way. yet the feeling is true. this feeling grabs both of us.
odie wonders why im missing/working and not home. i wonder why im working and not home. when i was home i wondered why i wasnt working. then i wondered why work at all? then i wondered why not work all the time. then i wondered what the hell was wrong with me. for only an anxious fool blinded by a hate for all things conformity would ask such questions of himself. yet i didnt stop there. next i asked why ask about asking at all. why ask why. why not ask why ask why not. a carousel of self indulgent questioning was about the only thing turning in our lives.
the real problem; any work other than the screenplay leaves us distraught. yet we hesistate. and delay. then when we do get around to the task of writing our muse has left the building replaced by performance and perfection anxiety. our latest contributions have been streams of consciousness far outside the realms of traditional dialogue. weve had no joy in writing any of it. we cant sell it either. nor show it around.
we dont know why all of these jumbled feelings of failure and more failure have sewn us tight. but we want to know. perhaps this ‘knowing’ would scuttle the dilemma we face now.
i digress from my miseries. let me continue.
weve sat in a corner while others painted us in. thats far worse than painting yourself in. at least in the later, you f**cked your own game plan. i am no way absolving myself of responsibility about where i now sit.
at this moment we are overwhelmed by a deep sadness. utterly depressing sadness.
weve always wanted to be drivers of our ship. not waiting for someone elses. not a passenger. but a captain and commander. not a sitter in the only unpainted corner. but thats precisely where we are.
we fear our lives will be a series of “how come she never…” “so much ______ yet she never ______ with it’.
these quotes evoke a paralyzing inner fear. when youre this far gone down the rabbit hole of counter society the thought of climbing out and the work it will take to do so is dauntingly paralyzing. and thats just the work to get to the surface. imagine the work needed to succeed among the herd?
perhaps we were never cut out for the herded life? we know we werent. but even those with minimal _____ were able to eek out a living amongst the living. what does this then say about one blessed in so many ways by the gods, yet squanderer?
the final stab wound>the cuteness of youth and the endless possibilities of youth have left us.
ahh sweet bird of youth youve flown my coop.
a poem then?
“Sweet bird of youth youve flown my coop.
never to return.
admired more enviously with every day
perched upon the brow of another.
Leaving bitter a purgatory of mid aged shell
Not yet young, to wallow in folly of youth.
Not yet old, to see this folly and its gaze back fool
are one and the same.”
the rocking chairs and the canes of unaccomplishment surround us. ultimate fear jeers at us.
we are frozen. frightened. pitiful.
wheres odie with a translator collar when you need him? what would he say to al of this. what would he say about my long absences that leave him crying and lonely. if only he and i could understand each other more. i would explain why i am gone and return sad. i would remind him of my undying love for him and how strong it is though it comes from a person of perpetual inaction.
goodnite dear friends.please dont let the same ghosts haunt you as they haunt me.
let us pray.
as I hold odysseus tight we write to wish you a goodnight.
What an interesting contrast this picture shows visually, physically, environmentally from the inhabited frozen “hell” Odie and I are reluctantlt submersed in.. Negative degree temperatures and high wind that could freeze and tear the face off a sports stadium.. Happened in Michigan. And by face I mean canopy. This really happened, its in the news. No joke!
We must emphatically state we.are thankful for the shelter we have, but also admit that this year we were not able to seasonally migrate to.a tropical resort with on~tap Margaritas as wed planned. We will be sure to find Cali, Miami, or Tahiti as our postal code next winter. Cold be damned!
Stay warm my friends!
♡ o and om
How does the flow of time feel as it drifts through your physical body? How do you identify The 4th dimension traversing the first three….
♡ o and om