Have I mentioned..?

Breathe In

Breathe Out

It's all going to be okay.

heart thumping too high in my chest, I hear the Death Rattle

I know that's what it is, but I can't understand why it's coming from me

It shouldn't be coming from me.

breathe in and breathe out

watch Rachel dance

is it the lightening that brings her?

and I thought I saw the Moon, maybe nearer to full, through the leaves of the trees?

I've been so flat out, and there's a bit more in the coming, the last push up over the 'okay let's set and rest here for a spell'.

then to get to some healing...

to rest my weary wounds in the woods, roll my troubled bones abed, to hear the burbled whisper of the very blood flowing through, on it's way to where, beating the heart tremulous, staring its worried blood eyes up at the valves as it passes through, wondering as a motorist might in a tunnel, "wonder how long it's been since they did any work in here?"  Questioning the structural integrity, mentally scheduling a power wash, pulling up Rachel on YouTube and listening to the snap crackle and pop of my body wanting desperately to remember how to move like a Body rather than a...a...thing, a cog, a manufactured posture - more like an instrument of joy, an expression of love, a feeling that endures.  Oh, the flow of it, where is my music?  My soft-skinned Dionysus, waiting benign in my dreams to offer that Youth, that smooth-bellied sacrilege, that one from the stories...he waits for me in eternity, will take my hand and lead me home, the 'tired child' from Malaclypse's circus, where I can slake my thirst of all desires, and be at peace.

Yes, I think it may be the lightening...

and oh, for the Love of Mardi!

Summer Stock Sunday

Last Summer, my steadily shrinking garden took a major hit in the move up here to Woodstock.  Two of my plants that I'd had for going on 20 years were laid to rest, and the above newer addition was looking pretty beaten down, but I chose to cut it back, and now there's three little babies trying to make a go of it - yay team.

The philodendron is looking well, filling out nicely with long, well-leafed trailers,  reaching all the way down to commune with Baby Alfred, the replacement for one of those 20-year plants I regretted to lose.  Also note the milk container with the carrots, black beans, and sunflowers the boy planted at school, along with the 'seed bombs' they made (seeds rolled in compost and clay dust with water).

And then, there's the constant reality of my transient lifestyle, the boxes cluttering up the place as we make ready for yet another move, hopefully the last for several years, at least, if I dare even type that out for fear that things may actually start to settle down for me a bit..!

That's how the Summer is starting out for me so far - I'm interested to see where the season takes us, and what fun things I get to see through the eyes of the others that choose to share their lazy hazy crazy days over at Around the Island!  See ya next week!

June 2011

It's time, once again, for my friend's Summer Stock Summer project, and I'm certainly looking forward to it - I began participating very soon after starting this blog, and just about every picture I took for the past two Summers have been of my kid swimming, my kid playing in water, my kid and his friends playing in water, and...my kid.  Did I mention that the only thing I photograph take digital images of anymore is my kid?  Remember how I studied Photography in college?  Using real cameras, film and equipment?  Remember all those hours in the darkroom breathing chemicals?  Well, I do!  And seeing as how I now live right up the street from some community darkrooms (thank goodness), it looks like I'll be making an attempt to brush some of the rust off of those hard-earned skills.  Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there will be plenty of camera-phone shots of the boy in and around water - because hey, it's almost Summer, and he's a great subject - but I miss having the time and making the effort to just...shoot.  Going out into the world with no other intention besides finding a shot.  It's been a long time.

Things have been admittedly crazy around here, but it seems that most of the stupidness has passed.  I doubt it's gone entirely, but there is much less nonsense staring me in the face every day as there was just a week or two ago.  The Supreme Court of Orange County has wisely decided to dismiss/transfer my former mother's case to Family Court, where both the child and I can get legal assistance, so while it's not over, at least the playing field has been leveled, and things don't look so desperate every day (not to mention that I no longer have to spend hours each day on the phone/doing legal research while  trying to build a case myself, a task to which I am poorly suited).  This is a great relief to me.

I am also in the process of moving, yet again, which is a relief, even in its stressfulness.  It turns out that the temperature frequently soars above 90 degrees in my son's (illegal) room, and that even though the landlord here advertised for a non-smoking tenant, every other person who lives in this building smokes, and as a result, MY apartment often smells like an ashtray.  Pleasant.  Let me just take this moment to pat myself on the back for being 8 months smoke-free, and how proud I am of myself for managing to navigate some of the hardest emotional times in my life without my old frenemy, Tobacco.  The longest I've ever gone without smoking was 9 months, so I'm waiting for the 1-year mark to really celebrate, but I feel positive that this time, I've licked it for good!  I also feel positive that this move will be to a place we can stay at for a few years - at least until the boy is out of elementary school, and to think that I can live somewhere for 4 years or more is hopefully becoming a reality I never thought I'd see.  I still want to run away and live with my Rainbow Family every other day, but having a stable home may well facilitate more free time to spend with the freaks in the woods as monetary demands allow (damn you, Societal Expectations!).  Although, come to think of it, I do live in Woodstock now, and my hippie quota may well be fulfilled by just walking around town this Summer...but no, it's really about living outside the bounds of what Society says is acceptable, and forming the kinds of community that respect and nurture all of it's members equally, but I should learn to do my best to promote that kind of togetherness in the town I choose to live in, as well.

I feel much freer to concentrate on the aspects of my life that have been troubling me, or demanding my attention of late, such as learning to be even healthier, making more of an effort to model an active lifestyle to my child, and taking steps to help others within my community.  I'm working with two individuals who are living with disabilities and/or illness, and it's SOO much more fulfilling than working as a lackey to a Big Boss with the main goal of separating people from their money!  I've spent way too many years in sales, and while it can be fulfilling to help an artist make their paper, it's also sad to see the majority of that money end up in the pocket of an agent who wouldn't know a creative process if it came wrapped in $100 bills.  Having someone say 'thank you' because the work I'm doing is helping to make their lives more manageable is much more fulfilling than any $15,000 sale ever was!  Even working at the orchard, where the goods I peddled were locally grown fruits and veggies, the bottom line was always the Evil Dollar - and while I learned a lot and loved most of our customers, there wasn't much opportunity for growth within the business.  While I don't yet know how far I can go with my current work, I do know it feels good to be doing it, and for now, that's enough.

I feel as if removing the toxic situations from my life has had an incredibly positive effect on my health, and I plan to pay careful attention to that, no matter how hard it may be to admit when a situation or a friendship has run its course.  Don't think it didn't break my heart to finally admit to myself that my blood relations were never going to love me for Me, and to let that connection go, but in the long run, it's the right thing to do, to be able to be fully who I am.  So many of my friends have helped to nurture me over the years, that all my Sisters in Arms out there in the Universe have manifested as the Mom-I-always-wanted-but-never-had, so while I have felt the loss of the One Who Carried Me, I have been held up by the strong bonds of common understanding, and managed to stay strong because of the web of love woven by those who see what I've got going on, and love and respect me for it.  And thanks to the boys, as well, though I've needed you less, and mostly just for sex, and picking up heavy things...  : )

So, I've had a few really bad weeks in row, and now a good one to temper the sorrow, and it feels like things are starting to even out a bit for me.  I am remembering to feel gratitude for all the gifts I have been given, and to expect the best for the future.  Summer is almost upon us, and I'm looking forward to the long, lazy evenings and weekends spent at the swimming hole - I found the local swimming hole, oh joy of joys!  I think I lived in and around Plainfield for 2 or 3 years before someone took me to Paradise, and then another year before I was able to find it on my own...  I've found myself so angry and resentful of those whom I've perceived to have 'more' - the house, the husband, the nice things, the loving family - and I'm feeling now like what I have is just enough for me:  a roof over our heads, a small circle of tight friends, everything we need and a few things we wanted regardless of need, and my sweet darling angel of a boy.  What could be better?  Right now, in this moment, everything is perfect in my world, and I offer thanks for it being so.

Some thoughts on 'drama', and social networking not working...for me

I'm not an overly dramatic person, and I tend to avoid the spotlight in favor of maintaining my lone wolf status, but I will admit that my recent Crackbook post was a bit over the top.  I got waayyyyy more involved in the online community than I ever intended, and my real life personal relations suffered for it.  Truth is, as it has so blithely been pointed out time and again, the illusion of having so many friends can be deceiving, and can fool one into thinking people are there for you, when they simply are not.  I send thanks to those who attempted to reach out to me when they feared the worst.  I also temper those thanks with the question, "where are you today?  Where were you before then?  Where will you be in the future?"  Great, so I didn't die that night, but what about the next?  And the next after that?  How many of you actually know what I go through in a day, a week, a month?  How many of you actually care?  And is that caring about me, or about an extension of yourself?

For those of you who pay attention, I addressed many of the questions and attitudes I have about suicide in a previous post, and any of you who actually READ this blog don't really have an excuse to have thought I would actually kill myself.  To be sure, if I were going to check out of here, I would make sure my son was safely ensconced with his father, first, and not be lying in a pool of blood on the living room floor for him to find when he gets off the school bus.  So, thanks for the vote of confidence, I really appreciate it.

CALLING THE POLICE, OR ANY MEMBER OF MY FORMER FAMILY IS INEXCUSABLE AND UNACCEPTABLE!!!  I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but I want to make clear for any future concerns that this is not the approved course of action.  The approved course of action is to calmly let me know either by phone or by email that you care deeply for me, and are willing to help in any way possible.  Coming to my house and knocking on my door is also acceptable.  I don't care how far away you live - I once drove 15 hours straight across the country for a friend whose parent had died.  (To my friend who called the cops - that's 12 1/2 hours farther away than you were, Monday night, and they were merely grieving a passing that was expected.)  I would do so again, without a second thought for most of you.  Ask yourselves if you're willing to do that before you jump all over any of my posts again - not that I'll give you the chance, I learned my lesson the hard way...

So, enough with the social network, and back to the blog.  Read it or don't.  If you feel moved to comment, which some of you sometimes are, PLEASE comment on the blog, not on the link to the blog.  I'm not interested in 90% of the crap that gets posted on the 'book'...well, maybe more like 50%, I'm not sure.  I really dig the science tidbits from my science teacher friend, and the music links from my DJ/musician friend, and some of the interesting news articles I wouldn't otherwise have noticed from my newshound friends.  Some of you are downright amusing, some of you are flat out annoying (but you get deleted, so you won't be seeing this!), some of you I just love so damn much I don't care what you post!  My email and my phone number are listed on my info page - please make note of them if you want to continue communicating with me out in the world of forms, okay?  Okay.

Enough about that , and we get up and move on.  Shit still sucks.  I'm still embroiled in what looks to a be an ugly, ongoing legal battle with my 'mother' without representation, I still have to move post-haste (ANY AND ALL OF YOU ARE INVITED BEGGED TO COME HELP.  PLEASE.) to I-don't-know-where yet, and my car is still smashed up beyond my ability to fix it.  If you have any solutions, feel free to contact me by the traditional methods, or leave a comment here.  Thanks again.

M

Another Year in Review

Holy crap, another year gone?  It's hard to believe that another year has slipped by so quickly, and where the fuck am I ?  Same goddamned place, a bit worse or a bit better for wear - I'm not sure, it's a hard call.  Maybe I'll leave it to you to decide...

Last year found me out of work, and deciding to go back to school.  That didn't work out so well.  All it left me was further in debt, and still without my degree.  I felt inspired to do some really positive work, and I still do, but 'real life' keeps getting in my way - which is stupid, because creating is the only 'real life' I have, and everything else is just another bullshit way to make paper, another endeavor I have proven to be most unsuccessful with.  'Nexus', my epic work-in-progress still has not seen the light of day, and I started a few other projects that have now been relegated to the top of the 'when I have time and money' pile.  I didn't just walk away from Goddard - once again, events transpired to derail me from my chosen path, and that calls into question either my commitment to my work, or my inability to stand true in the face of adversity, take your pick.  Or have both, I'm not choosy.  Epic fail, both ways, in my opinion.

The biggest obstacle to my pursuit of the elusive degree was The Fight, as I will call it.  The unequivocal nail in the coffin of the relationship I had with my former relatives, the 'family' I was born into.  While I do, and will, miss my nephew and nieces, they will all eventually turn 18 and make their own decisions.  Other than them, and a few cousins, I'm not really all that unhappy to see the rest of them go.  Had I left them without a word 22 years ago, my life may have taken the shape I keep willing for it by now, without all the lingering clouds of doubt cast by the naysayers who never had my best interests in mind.  Sadly, The Bitch has brought this stupid, useless lawsuit into my life, and I fear it will take awhile longer to be fully rid of them after all.  We will all have cake and do our happy dance together when it is done - with the Universe's blessing, I pray with all my heart, to please let it be so.

The stress that The Fight has caused in my life has undoubtedly contributed to the tinnitus I now suffer from on a constant basis, as well as the rash that resides on my right foot.  To be fair, the rash has been there for awhile (though not as long as these 'familial issues'), but the scratching of it is a stress-response, to be sure.  On the other hand, my doctor ran some blood tests and found me to be seriously deficient in the vitamin D department, and beefing up on that particular necessity has helped calm the hurt.  I haven't been smoking for awhile now, coming up on 8 months, just one month short of the longest I've gone without cigarettes for the past 27 or so years of addiction, and I'm pretty happy about that!  My skin seems to have healed pretty well from the burning swelling itchy what-the-fuck that happened as an assumed (more blood tests, awaiting results) allergic reaction to one of the supposedly healthy things I ingested in my attempt to walk the road to wellness - the culprits include the vitamin D, the probiotic, the fish oil, or the 'mercury cleanse', with suspicion resting heavily on the fish oil and the cleanse.  More on that when I get the results of the latest vampirism.  Also a high note - neither Zev nor I have suffered from any of the annual cold/flu/sinusitis/ear infections since our exodus from the County of Orange, and I am thanking the Universe for that blessing as well.  And I'm down 10 pounds, to boot...though, again, that may just be from stress.  Whatevs, I'll take it where I can get it!

We will, unfortunately, be moving again, and I wish the decision to where wasn't plaguing me the way it is.  On the one hand, I frakking hate NY, and have a sincere itch to hightail it back up to VT with all possible haste.  On the other hand, the boy is doing super-awesome in school, and I don't want to remove him from yet another peer group.  In NY I have a job and decent health care, the kid's in a good school, and I have one close friend who I feel I can almost count on.  In VT I have the child's father, and a few close friends I can mostly count on.  I need to leave my apartment because I've managed to somehow be blessed with a section 8 voucher (housing assistance), and the apartment I'm in is not approved by them.  I can take my voucher anywhere in the U.S., so...for once I have some options, and I want to think carefully about where I need to be that will best serve my child and me on as many fronts as possible.  I feel torn in too many directions - hell, I could go out West and make a go of it in AZ or OR.  I even had an offer of asylum in VA!  What to do what to do...  If not for the boy, I'd have been following the Rainbow/Renaissance train long ago.  Screw this living in places and putting down roots - I have Gypsy blood, and it likes to roam, stereotypes aside.  But the boy, oh, the boy...

The boy is AMAZING!  I can't believe how completely awesome he is, even in the wake of all this confusion.  He is smart and loyal, and friendly and funny, and cute as a very cute button and wise beyond his years - he is imaginative and playful and brave and persnickety, he drives me crazy and brings me joy, blows my mind and makes me so very proud.  He's soft and sweet and gentle, he loves babies and kittens and superheros and ninjas and Jedis, Godzilla and Legos, he loves to draw and cut paper, makes pop-up cards, and brings his mama flowers when she's feeling down - flowers that he makes himself out of cut paper.  He loves to dance and sing, tries desperately not to be afraid of monkey bars and riding his bike without the training wheels, saves all his pennies and likes to wear a suit and tie.  He tries to be brave, and for the most part, he succeeds - thunderstorms can still be troubling, though he says he's over it now.  I couldn't love him any more, but if there's a way, I will find it!  He is truly the greatest thing I have managed to bring in to this world, my child of love and light and harmonious vibrations, and he has taught me volumes on who I don't want to be (read:  my own parents), and shows me every day how to ask forgiveness and improve.  I know, I know, you parents of teens and beyond, I've only just begun this journey, but it goes fast, and I want to stay present in it and glory in it's majesty while I can.  Yes, it makes me crazy when he thinks he knows more than me, or chastises me for drinking soda, but it's also very sweet, and I want him to feel confident enough to voice his opinion when it is helpful - like a few weeks ago, when I was having trouble remembering if I was supposed to be traveling North or South on that particular highway, he piped up from his booster seat, "it's South!  I read the directions!"  My angel..!

We had a great Summer, last, and I can't wait to be free of the routine of school (until camp starts) so we can explore the swimming holes and camping trips this Summer has to offer - we have a trip planned to High Valley with our Lake Circle friends, but Rainbow will be out in Washington this year, and I wish with all my heart our car and finances could carry us out there, but I think they most likely will not (the car is in sad shape after the crash of a few weeks back).  I cheesed on my friend's Summer Stock blog-share thing last year, but I hope to remember to find joy in collecting images again this year - be they digital images, or actual photographs.  I don't have the luxury of a garden with this apartment, and the few plants I had left suffered greatly in the last move, but hopefully our new digs will afford me the opportunity to stick my hands in some soil again, soon.

Still no boyfriend, and all those presenting themselves for the possibility are sorely lacking.  The ex says I'm just too damn fat to expect anything more, but he can kiss my firm, plump ass and like it.  Somehow, I manage to convince myself I am still beautiful.  Many of my friends are struggling with desperately difficult circumstances, and I continue to be there for them through my own struggles, because that's what keeps us holding on - being there for each other.  I have probably alienated some of the people in my life whose lives are smooth sailing for the most part, for the simple reason that they just don't need me.  I like to be needed.  I like being leaned on, and holding people up - because I know that when I fall, they will be there to catch me.  I have never made anyone feel ashamed of anything they've done, or judged them harshly for their choices.  I sympathize, empathize and commiserate - I understand.  This is all the blessing I have to give to you right now, dear readers, but know that you can call on me whenever for whatever, and I will be there as best I can for you.  Even those of you who don't know how to be there for me.

Selah

Dead Flowers

Once again I've fallen behind, thinking I had something to write about, coming on here, where I haven't been in too long, to find two forgotten drafts just sitting there, looking accusatory. I had another dream I wanted to work out, about the ex going to work for year on a space station, and the boy, and some miltary overtones, and the BF with the lowdown, and the 7 year old driving the car down the highway while I chatted on the cell phone...weird stuff, to be sure. There was also an update-in-the-making on my face, and the general state of my health, with some wonderings on how much to spill about my legal battle...I deleted both of them. I was in a car accident the day I woke up from that dream, on my way to a festival, with two passengers in the car, one of whom was my child. No one was badly injured, thank goodness, but the driver's side door is smashed in and unusable (including the window), my insurance won't cover the damage, and I've been climbing in and out through the passenger side with my sore left butt cheek, lower back and neck for almost two weeks now. Yaay. I must have thrown those drafts down before I left to go to the festival...

That's not what I came here to get down. I came to the page to talk about love. Or rather, to gripe and whine about my lack of it. In the wake of everything that's been dragging me down (the legal battle/inability to get a lawyer, the eviction/moving process, the car crash/lack of funds to fix the damage), several people I know have announced to the world their choice to marry. Good for them. Really. I'm happy they've found love - in some cases for the second time, after the death of a previous spouse. Mazal tov. I, on the other hand, have not even managed to marry once. The longest relationship I managed was only 4 1/2 years long, 5 if you count the sex we continued to have after we technically broke up, and no longer cohabitated...

I'm alone, and I'm lonely. There are those who say, "you have your son", which is true, but the company of a 7 year old boy is not the company of another adult who has chosen to spend his time with me, building a relationship and a life together, based on love.  The kid has no choice - he's stuck with me, for better or worse, until the day he decides to leave my house (for greener pastures, I pray with all my heart).  At this point, I believe I've missed any and all opportunity to find any kind of sustainable relationship, and I suppose I'm mourning that loss.  I hardly have any friends that care to spend any time with me, and I go for weeks without any sort of adult interaction - let's not even get into the last time I had a night out, or even had more than a few hours away from the boy at all.  I miss my life - the one where I could get up and go anywhere at the drop of anything...

So what does that have to do with love?  Frankly, I don't know either.  I just know that rather than rejoicing for those who have found it, I am angry and bitter at my lack thereof standing out in stark contrast.  I love my son more than any goddamned thing, and I even find a way to continue to love his father.  I love some of my friends, though they hardly deserve it.  And I love my really good tried and true friends, the ones I call my 'ride or die' friends forever and always, no matter what.  Which one are you?

I'm really tired, there's too much on my plate, and just when I think I can't take any more, more gets piled on somehow anyway...and I must rise again.  Maybe one of these days, I'll learn to just stay down.  The Universe has been trying to kill me since the day I was born, and I suppose I must be a cockroach, or I'd be dead, right?  Only the good die young?  My purpose here has not been fulfilled?  Whatever is up, I have a small person to get on the school bus tomorrow, and a heapload of shit to deal with before it brings him back home.  Home.  A place I've never been, but I keep trying to figure out what it might look like, and build a reasonably good facsimile of it wherever our stuff happens to be.  I wonder where our stuff will land next?

Interesting how when I started this blog, my subject matter was 'the guy, the BF, the kid and the garden', with a bit about work thrown in as well.  Now it's 'the lawsuit, the housing, the car, and my lack of regular orgasm'.  Fascinating.  I'll have to look into that, as soon as I can get past the nightmares of being chased through the Monsey house by my 'mother' who is attempting to murder me, while I make every effort to protect my son and my youngest niece from her rampaging...I tell you, I'm right on the edge.  Dangerously.

supermoon

Saturday was a great day, really fun.  The boy and I went to the park, rode his bike over to check out the skate park, played at Small World which is apparently only one of the complexes playgrounds, rode around some more, came home for a nice warm late lunch, and decided to drive the 4 hours to Vermont to see his dad's new band play at P-Pie in Montpelier.  Sure, why not?  I'm always up for a night out dancing to great live music, and the kid could take a nap on the drive and stay up late with the party people, so off we went, me with extra layers, the small one with his ninja gear and stuffies.  Yay!  The drive was as fine as could be - the only thing missing was my BF, my good time friend, in the passenger seat, smiling out into the distant night, singing along with me and the radio, feeling fine.

As the boy was lulled by the asphalt rhythms, and I was left to myself, I thought how awful a parent I must be for driving to Vermont to take my son to see loud rock band in a bar late at night.  What was I doing?  I was taking my kid to a gig at a bar in a city 4 hours away late at night because his dad was playing guitar for a rock band and our friends were meeting us there and would probably be drunk and we would sleep on a couch or something and head home in the morning.  Yup.  I'm insane.  And I mourned my son, and pondered mythology, feeling across the ages to hold Mary's hand as she watched them crucify Jesus, thinking about the mythology I had begun, and wondered where I would let it take me, where it would lead.  How I would be led.  I saw then a partner, a shining light, felt his love beaming out at me from that empty shotgun seat, and I understood again how everything was just going to be okay, and I smiled my joy singing out into the fly by night...calling to Dionysus' panther that I wouldn't mind a lift.

And as I was Ariadne, riding that panther, making the miles disappear under the wheels of my modern godly chariot, I watched a giant yellow moon rise enormous over the horizon; held spellbound by the sight of Her, brought to my metaphorical knees by the Beauty, I swayed in my seat in my true happiness, savoring the delight of the Moment, blessed as it was, and sweet.  Joyousness must have woke my angel, because as he stirred, and looked to catch my eye in the rear view, That Moon broke free of the trees and floated up into the sky like a luminous Eye, and looked down upon Everything, and I held out my hand to her, reached to bask in her smooth amber glow, and I saw the eyes of my son read Her light along it's reflection in the silver circles on his mother's arm, and we were holy again.

I got a bit worried that they might not play long, and that we might miss them, that we drove all this way for nothing, and made my attempts at teleportation, but got frustrated, missed a turn somewhere and ended up a half an hour down the road from where I wanted to be, and when.  Tragic.  I pounded that last 30 minutes hard, had all the gears firing, was vibrating with it as we pulled up in a dusty ball of kinetics coming to rest all at once in a hurry.  Bam.  Here we are.  We rushed breathless to the door, to the big window where we could see in that my friends were not on the stage, to scan the crowd and catch the eye of our longtime friends, who smiled and came out to give happy hellos on the sidewalk, and bring us news of our luck - we hadn't missed a thing, right on time in fact, even a bit early.  Look at all the people we know in here, and while he's the youngest, mine is not the only kid in the place, there are several, whom we all know, and all belong to the band.  One of two who belong to my friend is even old enough to drink at the bar with us now, its own kind of joyous heartbreak, that bittersweet aching that is enlightened life.

They played super, like the moon.  Bad Dog.  Round and full and growled and fur, naked and smoky and Joe.  Down with it, dirty, like inside your mind.  Shake it out, dance with it, I turned it all the way up and got it on.  The boy held on and got up in the madness, my brave little soldier, seeing what he can see.  I let it muck me about and turned with it, grasping on and shooting it out around me, joining them in, working it through, being part of it.  It was somehow sublime.  The music the guitar and the drum make have always caught me, and I really dug the singer, need to hear more of the bass to know it, but wow.  Groove-diggity, fantastic.  Full on under the supermoon...yeah!  Wanting more.

Oh, so tired after many long hours, back to the house for the sleep on the mat on the floor, all still abuzzing at 4:30 in the good times, attempting to bring it down and be with it, ground and rest.  The morning will hold its own challenges, and sleep sleep  sleep...