Stream of Consciousness

September 2025

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Why is there such sadness, emptiness — a subtle undercurrent — only noticeable, visible, feel-able, palable, under calm, still water, with a calm, still body? 

Not moving, not going anywhere, nowhere to be, just be, just being. 

[How much of my life, my time I give to decision paralysis?]

[How much of my ink, my paper, my empty white space, my limited source of energy, my capacity to think, my flow, my focus… how much of it do I give up to word-choice paralysis? To always defaulting to mangles of word-vomit?]

I get lost in the millisecond moment of my eyes opening after a blink or a sleep [think, locale: Mediterranean cliffside rock, perched over soft incoming waves meeting the hard surface of land [I am here often] think: in that moment] the millisecond moment of my eyelashes creating a fan of waves in front of my eyes, lids not fully open yet not fully closed, just a fan of eyelashes in their millisecond moment of opening up, just, just letting the light of blurry idyliccism come through to my eyes, into me. 

So much beauty in the squint — as it pertains to looking at the sun. It’s rays meet the filter of my eyelashes, say hello to my retina. What a wonder this body is; I process these rays in colors, in depth, in texture, in blur-focus, with sound even… and I think “beautiful.” 

What a complex brain I have been gifted. I think “beautiful” [because I see beautiful], but… I feel confused mostly, maybe lost, a bit empty (but not completely), I feel sad. Not melancholic or regretful or any emotion from afar, but a sadness of – intrinsic to – the mindfulness of the present, of the still beauty of peace in front of me.

09.2025 

LA

More thoughts and musings...

from your favorite exotic companion

Stream of Consciousness

think, locale: Mediterranean cliffside rock, perched over soft incoming waves meeting the hard surface of land [I am here often] think: in that moment]

Read More »

On My Dreams

I dream to be MacKenzie Scott. 

I dream of wealth — of hoarding it, having it, spending it leisurely,

                             of giving it away, of hiding it in plain clothes. 

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Favorite Poems & Book

plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
and excitement
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us

Read More »

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