Friday Evening Post: 8.12.22

There is to be a show. I am to put one on. Less than a week to go. And here I am, interrupting my own preparation.

Friday Evening Post: 1.7.22

     Becoming acquainted enough with isolation starts to slide toward conditioning. And that is not necessarily a knock on the notion. In many ways (metaphysically and the sort), we are very much set apart from all the rest. The isolation of identity. The alone of the mental innards. Though closeness might be attempted and achieved,…

Friday Eveing Post: 11.27.20

I think of purpose. And destiny, if there is such a thing woven within the fabric of our doomed little sentience. I think of whys and if, and in so many ways, that makes me just like most others. Which then demands, in all its barbaric eloquence, the question of why it is I ever…

Friday Evening Post: 10.30.20

Why again? Why now? It couldn’t possibly be that there is any substantial word flow about to occur. The arrival of some unannounced clarity, casting answers down upon us all like some memory sequestered summer rain?