Tropical melodies for a Saturday evening.

I'm not stoked about the gradual phasing out that happens with most people from our lives. It's such a LAME shortcoming, so unintentionally unfortunate, and utterly self-pitiful. But what can you do? The process takes two, at least, and it still seems preferable to many people than taking some semblance of responsibility for the deaths of the relationships we half-heartedly enter into. (What is it?: "El cielo es azul, just don't go telling everyone." - C.O.)

Ha! Well, to be "not stoked" about something is nonetheless not that freakin' bad, eh? My weekend is meant for maintenance, I'll maintain, but I believe it's my greatest weakness by far. Instead, six-mile-muddy Buddha-charmed hikes trump, and hours of reading sci-fi-fantastical works of art. My mind's a mess when it looks at the bigger picture, but ah, what splendid focus it can muster! One thing at a time, and the mention of a holistic healing of self is as meaningless as an abstraction of language from a word.

What else? Cold feet, and the insured certainty of self-deception in everything we do--still hopefully in these tiny-tiny ways. For instance, finally taking the time to write something (silly) just when comes to us an opportunity to do something readily necessary. As though utility were something shameful! and to be denied whenever possible. Cheap? "Whatevs."

Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (5/2/09)

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