Some time in the evening near the end of the night I turn in early and ask myself if I really just heard Howlin’ Wolf say, “You got the turtle-learn-ed-est wobble I ever did see.”
Probably not. Says me who draws a block around it.
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I am on fire and going nowhere.
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I feel like a fraud as I feel understood.
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It stings when I say, “From them the only enduring love is “exit only.” I am not build to believe this. But belief is blue pencil and the rest is gravity. My heart still responds.
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RT: Fiction fucks Rosetta. Rosetta precedes the stone. Film at eleven. But first, a word from our sponsors.
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I am grateful and I love you and someday my family will thank you but in the meantime I’ll have moments like these and moments like the other night where I was standing in the dark, naked (of course), post thought-bomb-finger paint-ash-on-floor-scraps-and-tape-full-heart-fest, looking at the linen cabinet thinking about the “ticket” and saying to myself where my son lives but does not exist that I stand around naked in the dark with music and turtles finger-fucking each other in my hair because I’m full, and this is what its like living with me and it took a long time to feel this way and if my son ever comes it’ll be because of right now and if anybody asks I’ll say, that I did my best to set a good example.
(The opinion is the victory, so he says, namaste. Like gravity.)
Gravitational force = (G * m1 * m2) / (d2)
Like a dandelion getting its brains sprayed
And the wishes that take root after blowing
It.
Illustration of the process in an effort to be less cryptic:
Have a nice day,
Bob
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