Just as the clutter and complexity of the manifest mulch gets osmosed through mindful practice into the cellulite scaffolding of a freer, lonestanding plant of an individuated self-awareness, so too does downsizing free one from the lifeless clutter of an acquisitive life so that the spaciousness that was always there discloses itself through the diminishing of the seductive power of trinketfulness on an infoslutted mind.....in both cases, outer space gives a mirrored inner space room to breathe and space is empty of everything but its own intrinsic nature which is luminousness and this luminousness is what aliveness is.   

That's for others to determine....a true gift is in the eyes of it's beholder...on this side of the street, it's just biz as usual.

Tam just looked over my shoulder and said "I've never seen you pause over an empty blog page for more than ten seconds"....truth is, I got stuck in wondering whether to

1. Do my usual critique of the "higher self" thang in favour of an Open Ground which is not anything like an anthro-self at all.

2. Do No.1 but with a lot of swearing and volatility.

3. Insert the response "He wants me to ear chocolate and get laid"

4. Offer up some schmaltzy mandala full of crayonned angel-love

5. Not bother blogging

But 6. I wrote this.

j x

I love to pull the engramatic little coctail sticks from the clear plastic cylinder of my awareness with a  winsomely-if-not-camp nimble flourish matched only by my ontological terror at so doing as the supported marble of my self-sense starts to heave and yaw and falls headlong into the abyss of  the xistential well....Kerr-plunk!!!! 

A lousy pun springs to mind which I'm loath to express here but I'm pledged not to pause for breath so.....you know there's that drug they call 'horse'...which I'm hoping is something testosteronic rather than some sort of pale powder?...well I subscribe to a more effective strain caled "camel" so-called because it transports you over the desert of banality...the mundane terrain...into a fertile oasis of pure hedonic delight...... anyways, I like to mainline the stuff whilst performing dangerous stunts...like flying to Seattle or Aukland and bunghee-jumping from the upper platform of the high towers that rise out of the busy metropolitan skylines like fuckfingers in a chrome-and-glas fist......anyways, I make a lot of noise on the fast way down.......so my unique ability is that I can shoot camel through the aieeeee of a needle......

Goddess...I want the ground to swallow me up..no living up to me handle today folks.....

My secret ability....when night enquilts the molten daysky..and friends have fallen into the blurred neutrality of sleep..and the day's trivia has washed down the rusty gutter...I will rise from my bed and switch on the dressing table gooseneck and look in the mirror and watch my teeth dance...

Retracting and surging forth like typing keys lifting and falling...hammering out syncopated lowerchakra-enticing rhythms as upper case periodically connects with lower.....on they click and clack into the night....my eyes sag in red-rubbed tiredness and the bags under them float at length down my sallow cheeks but still my teeth dance..and I watch and I watch until I almost faint through a heady combination of excitement and exhaustion....

Alright....I am most satisfied by eating rare and exotic cheeses just before I go to bed....that Bavarian Mangorst did sem a litle green around the edges......