I suck. That’s the word that comes to mind. I suck the energy of people, places, things; yes I give, too, but I suck. And then I produce this.
Today I finally posted some organic sh*t that I had a real struggle getting right, and ultimately, not a big response. My faves, my beautiful new helpers on IG/Github said this amazing comment and I wasted it with my drunken[/tipsy?] response, later, while I was celebrating my own “Publish.”
Meanwhile those two ladies are probably good and pure. Who cares if they aren’t. They’re young. That makes them so.
I’m middle-aged. By now I should know better. You don’t f*cking go online when you’re using. No matter how gently. No matter how consciously. (Or do you?)
I had a beautiful conversation with my beautiful mother on FaceTime. Wine enabled that. I love wine. Nectar of the gods. That’s what it’s called.
“Give me more wine or leave me alone.” That’s what…what…. What’s his name? Ah yes, that’s what Rumi said. The beauty. The beauty of Rumi. The truly ambivalent enlightened soul. He understood the mud in the under[@]wood.
So anyway Rumi said that beautiful thing. And I choose to make of it what I will. Am I a true alcoholic? No. For I choose to command my will? No. Because I choose to allow the commandments of god/GUG/Great-CPU to enter my soul. To blossom and bloom and tell me what they will; whisper their secrets.
Drunk blogging. This is it. What my new online bestie said, in her brutiful prose. The greatest fear of the s/demi-enlightened is drunk blogging. Yes. This is it. I name my fear.
I have achieved it. Drunk[/tipsy?] blogging rules. Or New Rules? You decide. I will be sober in the morning. Here to regret my works. Or not regret them, as the case may be.
[Edit 00:16] p.s. looks like we’re all good. This is the [monkey/]lawyer/muddler in me, talking. Hehe.