Crocs or Flip-Flops Over to Keys
2024.12.09
Good morning, that wonderful way.
What say you?
Boo hoo?
How'd you do?
How are you?
All acceptable.
Glad you're here.
Abe's four AM barkfest is over. Something not the neighbor in the neighbor's yard.
They'd appreciate the help if they weren't still sleeping.
Hopefully.
I didn't see what he barked at which I suppose was his idea.
Good work. Our hopefully still asleep neighbors thank you.
Feeling like a day to switch to typing for a bit. I'll hold off and perhaps post something else later.
Still going strong? Up and at 'em?
Good.
The words are slow, the rhythm is calm waves on the shore. They make the sounds best suited for YouTube videos of the ocean entitled, "Sounds for Sleep."
Eight hours of a Sea Song Symphony to lull you to sleep. A liquid lullaby.
Wonder if some not so graced with intelligence dogs bark at ocean waves.
Must've been a couple.
A good YouTube moment to wake to. A video of a dog on vacation barking at the ocean.
"Thanks friend, I see it. Back to my umbrella accessorized drink and beach read."
Ocean thoughts before sunrise in New England in just about Winter.
It's about an hour's drive East. I could hop in the car with Abe and see how he fares.
He's smart enough to keep walking the shoreline searching for twigs and seaweed. Or, to stay in the car.
There's still not a Croc or flip-flop comfortable enough for a paw. And beach sand can clog the pads.
Strange air, strange words so far.
I'll come back at sunrise to see if it, punnily enough, casts a new light on things.
🌊📣🐶
Over to the keys. Do as you please.
Said it once, say it again: The best thing about a keyboard, for writing, is you don't have to look at it. You can write with your eyes closed or while daydreaming off into space.
Time to join the Human Race.
Why would anyone want to do that?
There's an old quote I love:
"The problem with a rat race is, even if you win, you're still a rat."
The same can be said for the human race.
Maybe the idea is to become divine. There's no Divine Race. It's more of a walk at sunrise, a thank you to the skies.
The word count goes up here. Better suited for quicker thoughts. The pen was stubborn slow. We do the speed of the day. Sing with the rhythm of the song.
The last dance at a high-school dance doesn't go so well in a mosh pit, unless you're wearing a helmet. Not much intimacy in a helmet at a high-school dance. Though, you might get King and Queen prom points for the spectacle.
Been so long at this hermit's way of life. It's for work's sake and not a personality trait.
There's so much more to life a writer, any artist, notices. If we artists are compassionate (and we must be to be any good at the work), we recognize how much better peoples lives could be if they'd only change their way of looking at a thing.
An artist's job is to see the light in a new light, to give voice to the world in a unique way to help others have a new way to express their own lives, to add to the story called themselves.
It's tough to watch others suffer when you know they don't have to.
When you know it's a choice.
Especially when you care for them.
Was writing about Abe and the Ocean. One day I'll take him. Not much water around us this year. He's curious about ponds and lakes, though. His paws are webbed, so he'll make a good swimmer.
Some dogs jump right in, others follow another dog’s lead, "You mean we can do that!?"
Others never touch the stuff.
Dogs have their preferences like people do.
Abe's a bird dog, but doesn't like the taste of duck. Bland taste genetically, perhaps. Tastes like chicken. Boring.
I put myself in your shoes, at times, when I write this journal.
What the heck is a poet? What do they think? Why is it important?
It's a kind of seeing, a kind of listening, endanger of being lost in cellphone quick flash screens.
Threatened by AI, but necessary for AI to do us much good.
The prompt is the thing, as far as AI goes. Who better to write a concise sentence of powerful words than a poet?
No one.
Our dreams don't serve the machines, the machines serve our dreams.
Putting words to dreams. That's a good job description.
The blog is a way to share the kinds of daydreams, the kind of daily rhythmic reasoning of someone focused on how the power of words shapes our experience.
I do it out of generosity and because it really is a lot of fun to make the pics. You ought to try it.
I'm not a young 20 year old trying to break into the poetry scene. I'm a well versed guy that's been writing everyday for a quarter of a century.
I know the poetry I write gets noticed. And fast. It's not out of vanity I say this. Experience and insight. It's not boasting if you can do it; it's honesty.
I share the journal because I hope it slows down your day for a couple of minutes so you remember your alive, remember there's more to life than your cellphone checklists, that the lists are there for a reason and that reason is your experience of life.
And, because, it's really awesome to make pics.
An insightful author wrote,
"All Art is generosity."
She's right.
We share our vision of the world to help you see better.
Some of it's peacocking. A quick flick of the lights to get your attention. That's okay.
Too much strobe lighting isn't good for your health.
Slow down. That's a message to take from this site.
You want to speed up the quality of your day? The quickest way to do that is to slow down.
Focus on the relationships. That's the journey. There's no endpoint, no goal that finishes your life, there's only the success of each relationship you focus on.
It's the relationship with yourself and the quality of the relationships built along the way that makes a goal worth striving for.
"You can't take it with you when you go.” A lot of folks say regarding material things. But I do believe, and my sometimes ghostly self will agree, we take our dreams with us. Wherever death leads to. "Leave your things, body included, gather up your dreams and I'll meet you at the door," Death says.
The quality of our dreams and the relationships we build from them, including our relationship to ourselves is, I truly believe, the point and purpose to life.
I've had a lot of time to think about it.
A spaceship flight to The Moon isn't going to do much for your afterlife. Unless you have a great dream of it before and during and after the flight. Unless it helps you build another dream and more relationships from that one.
I have stories that speak on this point. They're on the way. Some writing deserves structuring.
A sentence, or a comma, or a misspelling here and there while I enter it into the blog is all I do with these entries. I've been writing along time, though.
Take care of yourself today, remember you are the dream of yourself and not your flesh and bones, and have your better day.