Explore sauble

+++shiver++in++the++heat+++ ++how+many++ +++have+seen+the+++ °°fulgent°°°dusk°° +++murmuration+++ °°of°°starlings°° --{fly home, little starling}-- --{fly... fly...}-- ++seen++it+++ ++shiver++ ++writhe++ ++twist++ ++ & shimmer++ ° ° ° against the setting sun & you realise you are seeing a thing both rare & terrifying -- °°°°° °°° ° °°° °°°°° -- seeing a thing that is ++ breathtaking ++ ++ heart-fluttering ++ proof-of-the-beholder's reflections in-a-jaded-eye// //concrete & tangible 3vid3nc3 of a tRu3 h1v3-m1nD @work Yeah... "Birdbrain" no longer, but rather the tesseract-dimension greater-mind-state of collective avian consciousness & next-higher "being-state" ° ° ° its synergistic intelligence both

St. Augustine, 22 January 2023 Evening... Seven mile Atlantic wind sabre-rattles overhead palms, and loudly whispers through the southern pines-- --Orion over my shoulder as other stars take turns poking their way through slate-marble-countertop clouds across darkened sky still somehow hanging on to the vaguest background glow. Enough of a bite to the salt-tinged breeze to bring vague grumble/warning of the unquiet trolls of the Northlands I've managed to narrowly escape... at least for this winter...

--{still further adventures in edible-assisted guitar praxis}-- ~~~{whiiiine?}~~~~ Every time I hear that cliché: "For all the tea in China"... I have to wonder if folks might find that-- --more tea (there might actually be?) in India, or perhaps in Old Blighty? (pity!) Where the storybook badger invites you to his English Country Garden for some --{custard creams}-- and a nice, hot cuppa. --and I try to play guitar with my bratty, bully-mutt of a Puppers lying on his back, and wiggling like a worm-- --all four paws flailing and waving in the air-- (who do they think they are?) --going balls-out to the music, without a single canine care (good thing he can't drive a car!) "Hey, let me sing you the songs of my people! Grrrrarrrrg! Urrrrgrrrrrrr! WOOF!" --any time, anywhere (baby!) And poor slob of a human treat-dispenser, I have to wonder why I take the chance... All the tea in China? Yeah, well, my dog's got all the whine in France! --even more

Just a jab in the left arm after she asked me if I was right handed (I dunno... Is that politically-correct terminology anymore? So hard to keep up) But when you're playing guitar both hands are important -- the left gives me my chording, after all: My hammer-on/pull-offs and the left-side tapping up and down the neck, whilst the strumming & picking is left to the right. "Sit for fifteen minutes," they tell me. Well, should I maybe be disappointed that I haven't yet felt the hidden microchip uplink to the --Bill Gates-- --Micro$oft-- --Chinese Communist Party-- --Hive-Mind?-- "Are you steady, sir?" "Are you faint?" "Are you numb?" "Will you calm down, sir?" "Do I have a right to cry?" (Like the Yakov Smirnoff joke: Do I have to go out and try to find party, or will Party always find YOU?) ...Five minutes in to the recovery tent, and the shoulder has that 'angry/numb' but that's all that's happening so far. Should I have heeded the warnings from world-renowned

(A Midlife Crisis Hedge-Wizard Spell) 'cuz the magic is there if you know how to find it it may be old it may be quiet when your / to believe takes your landscape at speed it may be subtle (not enough flash & bang & rubble to make you think it worth the trouble) like the kind of success that only repeated failure & humiliation can allow you to earn the sort of lessons that can't be written down// only direct experience can allow you to learn 'cuz there ain't no trophies & there ain't no grand prize & the only thing you have the right to brag about is the fact you survived sure you'll never fly high but you also won't burn out fast & not always flashy or pretty if you're built to last know impossible standards when you see them & and on the inside find you're strong & as falling leaves of coming autumn shall be your sweet & quiet victory song

--{further adventures in edible-assisted guitar praxis}-- DAY 1: (Famous Studio Chatter & The Global Elephant-in-the-Room) One thing all Hucksters have in common no matter what their racket of choice// their flavour of snake-oil: Be it the (g)rape of Religious Extremism or Le Sav(E.U./I.O.U.)r Grenade of Nationalism, fermented to pure-Abs(inth/stininc/trus)e Toxicity -- -- or, perhaps the banana/lemon pow(d)er-lines of the disco-mirrored Voulez-Vous money-money-money get-rich-quick pyramid -- is that they all learned to tap into a base, human instinct, and flex a unique (and deliciously sensuous) but-rather-underused muscle Tom Petty knew the truth that sometimes, even losers get lucky. Or maybe it's just the normal noises in here. Of course, in the end, one of the most base, human impulses is the burning lust for revenge ('cuz freedom takes too much work). And far-too-many people take the words of Soviet Dissident Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn far-too-much out of context when

Maybe the day you finally know you're reaching the end of Midlife Crisis is the day when you realise that the long-life battery that powers the guilt//regret// sorrow//anger//humiliation in which you've drowned about your various life failures missed opportunities and things that have been denied you is finally running on reserves and gradually powering down. And instead of naïvely hopeful plans involving tools and materials you're hoping and striving to obtain, you realise you've painted yourself into a corner// trapped yourself into a delusion that is shared by so many, (and never really explained) --that a rigged game was actually fair, and that the majority that chose to play it could at least break even... (like, d'uh... not even!) Maybe the day you finally know you're reaching the end of Midlife Crisis is the day you finally realise that it never even mattered whom you tried to impress, 'cuz after all, it's the one, who thinks himself Emperor, that's ultimately proven