Our Protag, Protag

2024.07.16

Good morning that wonderful way.

And we're off.

That's the thing these days you never know what time it is until you know.

There's fast.
There's slow.
There's the way we go.

Always, often at least, say it's been a while before I start to dial up the freewrite.

The fast free let it be.
Go! Go! Go!

You know it's a certain kind of day when I write in a certain kind of way.

Exclamation points! are indicative of something.
Faster years, slower tears.

Seems to me a slow cry just before you die is the way to go.
That you'll miss it and not an apprehension of where you're going next.

Heard a comedian say, "Where we go after we die must be a pretty nice place, no one ever comes back."

But how does he know, really?

Seems that's something you keep to yourself.

The whole world would think you're crazy or be at your doorstep with questions of which you couldn't answer.

How can one possibly talk about that place?

Seems as if words could do it justice it would be a lot more accessible.

To begin talking about death we need to talk of spirit, and as we're not very good about that (yet) the conversation would fall flat through a misapplication of words.

Flat words.
Lacking words.
Words that do no justice to the experience other than an admittance of ignorance and ineptitude.

I start throwing words like ineptitude around first thing in the morning, with exclamations points nonetheless, and you best watch out for a day of epic proportions.

So, watch out.
July Sixteen of Twenty-Four and there's so much more to look forward to.

Where to go on an epic day?
Well, The Epic Factory Outlet, of course.

Where else would you go?

Certainly not Death.
No, no, no.

Unless you could come back.

But an Epic is meant to be shared.

And as we just said,
(And you know because you read it.
Reading goes in a certain way of course.)
you know we don't know how to talk about that, so Death is right out on an Epic kind of day.

Unless the Epic called Yesterday finished but left you with a tragic ending.
In which case The Epic Kind of Day (today) would find itself as an After-Epic Epic where the protagonist, (let's call him Protag) ...

Where Protag talks about what death is, and where it is, so we can all plug it into our GPS at birth and get a printable set of directions in case our cell phone batteries run out.

An Epic, exclamation point, with an aptitude for a story or two.

There's no other way to tell an Epic without an exclamatory event or two.

Epics and exclamatorys always come together.

Today, dragons, (there ought to be one of those in every respectable Epic), and our Protag, Protag.

Words and doing words, dreams doing dreams.
Dreams making words, words making dreams to do words to do dreams to make circles for a never-ending quest called life.

So, we begin where Life did: The spin of a sphere.

Each one of us is a planet.

Didn't you know?

The world around is your Space.

You cut it, define it, make it not Space by how you interpret your sense of it.

Life is a sphere of shared Space.

We all orbit around The Sun on the same luxury cruise liner called Mother Earth.

Good start to an Epic, on an Epic Kind of Day.

S.J. Wynn
+he Ghos+