12.24.14
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During a lull between writing the two stanzas of ‘SITTING’

Thoughts come and go, some have a means to attach themselves to ones mind in no particular order, but hold fast like ticks because they have persuading lines to tell. I’ll let them hang on until I’m able to translate the meanings of.

INTERLUDE
12.12.14 - 12:45 PM.

(On the stereo: Florence and the Machine; LUNGS, playing the third time through) No clouds, quiet, peaceful, mindful, the day remains the same, blue sky, the green of mother nature - the best way to show this day, is to be in the feeling - The Place of Being Blessed

The ramblings, and using the limits of my mind, to keep all these pages in different formats and designs and not get them mixed up with the NO MIND theme is a mental exercise keeping my train of thought running smoothly as the rest of my life crumbles with age.

This writing about sitting is the first time to look at sitting and not standing and trying to put this phenomenon into words, so expect, if you are actually following this Poetry Workshop, odd words, ideas, thoughts, and short peeks into my backstory.

Always Be Prepared; is the only thing I learned from the Boy Scouts, other than disdain for the perfect ideal presented. (Joined the cub scouts but couldn’t afford the uniform so dropped out.)

I lived in what was a presentable environment no one I knew knew any better except maybe the Communist husband of my mothers sister, even if he did know something, he was to strict for me. Not that I was interested in Communism, but at least he was thinking outside of the box. The days keep passing throwing fast balls no matter what; (sunlight supposedly takes about 8 minutes to reach the Earth from the surface of the Sun - 8 minutes & over 93 million miles, bringing sunlight onto my ladies leaves, their buds emerging slowly... another story) I pause for eight minutes & catch up on my UV intake - the painter called & rescheduled - so, home alone, did my bodily duties, kitchen duties, cleaned & dressed my foot wounds, fed Rufus, done & ready for the day at 11:37 am.

What now the empty space asks, begs to be utilized, can’t stand waste, “Don’t waste me!” It warns me. Empty space is not as patient as I am; delayed gratification is how I was raised & have to say thank the goodness of the Goddesses. I do heed the “Don’t waste me” advice. So, brewed one small cup of fresh strong coffee ate one Diazepam & two oxycodone's an hour apart in between three tokes; the macbook, phone & a bottle of water next to my chair one piece of toast with Almond butter spread thick 2:30 pm. the second meal of the day, the first being a vegan pancake & one cup of SoyLent, the final meal, will be one sweet potato & another cup of Soylent, an hour before bedtime, a good time of the day for me, a leave of absence from this sitting life, lounging here, not quite sitting - did read four chapters of ‘Swift as Desire’, yes, I recommend it... but inner energy wants to write something, what I don't know - so Swift as Desire aside - me on the edge, paying attention to keeping the commas periods question marks semicolons & such in an irregular order so as to have different meanings & views, wheel out onto the porch with full on sun on my upper bodies skin for 15 minutes each side for the vitamin D, then back onto the lounge & try to write anything that holds together long enough to graft themselves onto a paragraph, so the words and letters don't fall off the screen. It's what I ought to be doing everyday; writing, or trying to write, or trying to recall some of those thoughts that come in, or out, from deep within the quiet zone of blank space, the doorway to the deep inner self & the borderless outer self. Fill up the space in between with words then cut 50% of them, maybe, is this just 'killing time'? Could be, this phrase, 'killing time' has been around as far back as I can remember, but I don't think this is what I am doing with this time I have been given for this seventy-six years so...

(
soylent.me)
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12:23.14 Almost the edge of the calendar year

The references to the Oxycodone Tokes Coffee Diazepam;

I had stopped drinking coffee, down to maybe a dozen cups a year a long time ago. But last week it occurred to me, after having some two days in a row, that drinking coffee improves everything. I had stopped all pain meds for over six months but had to give in to going back, the pain gets and is out of control. The Tokes, part of my life, always will be, as needed, maybe not every day. The Diazepam takes the edge off allowing the Oxycodone to do a better job allowing me a life. Promising fixes are on the horizon, but these medical technology advances take time, and I have time. Time is on my side.

12:23.14 About an hour later.
That and, my mind is looser, uninhabited, wild, natural, invisible, sometimes gone nada. Gone from thinking sayonara bye not even bye though because there was nowhere to leave from that far out, and knowing you won’t fall off the wall as we used to do in our grammar school yards that had concrete walls at different heights and a jump spot about six foot wide nobody fell ever and a hang by your finger tips wall when you let go you dropped 14 feet feet, I think one guy broke his ankle and getting me way off track and what just gets the mind out there away from comings and goings hang loose brah.

So, I go on, mostly nonsense, so why then do I put it on line in its unrefined unfinished-ness what? So, this is I know the first putting down these words without editing looking back at the words wondering what they mean is what I’m talking about way out there and way in there at the same time just one non duality not-two one took a while for me to grassland embrace this way of being with myself and let my mind lay out these words without my mind interfering but I have to stop as I’m getting aside of myself. I have no idea of what my way of writing that which I see as poetry is valid in any other mind than mine. Am I one of a kind no connecting thought waves vibes digging-ness and sentence fragmentation-er with hardly any other minds, preposterous. I’m a fragmented guy is one thing, I am also adhesive smooth absorbable tough a good kisser open imaginative surprising delightful and a piece of work in development. So then after writing still 40 minutes after I said “I have to stop as I’m getting aside of myself.”

Son pau here.

and yet...

Gary

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