What it is, or is it?

Everybody wants to know what it's all about. Is it delivery or is it Digiorno?

Good Morning Winterberries. Happy Full Moon and Spring.

We are nothing more than whispers fluttering our lashes on momentary glimpses of time; and nothing less than the eyes of creation, witnessing this moment, the culmination of everything that has happened since the birth of existence, and the next blink of the rest of infinity. We stand here on the precipice of a new age. What is the next chapter we will write with our thoughts and actions?

A Sad State of Affairs.

Basically crew, the old Wrangler has lost his mind. I'm afraid that my brain no longer functions the way it used to. My procrastination has become a thing of magnificence. I cannot seem to get all this work done that is piling up on me, and I feel like the mud at the bottom of the piles of tar sands in Canada. It's a sad state of affairs, and now it has even come to this. Here I sit, writing to you, the nobody reading. I have scrolled through the news so many times now, read all the interesting looking stories from across the world, I have checked facebook, and checked again, and now my boredom has lead me here, to write these blatherings while I listen to Beethoven, and think about trying to write this review of an article in the Journal of Pastoral Psychology. This is all sad indeed. I'm wearing my dead grandfathers bathrobe at 7:30 pm, having skipped the Seven Circles Pipe ceremony to do this work. I have continued to deprive my liver of alcohol, my lungs of the green goddess herb, I'm sober as can be, yet my brain does not seem to recover its wits. Se la vie. The mind is a bizarre contraption. I don't understand it. Aloha nui loa. Pray for the study cells to begin firing. Good night.

Winning! (30 second commercial seems unavoidable-MUTE!)

sludge

The dream floats down into the jelly house,
somewhere far left of mainstreet.
Lost in the spell of repetition,
the jungle fellow at a loss for words.
Is it early onset alzheimers?
There are questions about wasting time.
Too much information,
too many interviews with Charlie Sheen.
No answers
The curse of the open mind
Calm now.
Too far from mania for comfort.