I’ve been sitting here, stewing and worrying about Mom.
I should have known better.
Backstory to this, Mom’s live-in boyfriend died this week after an accident. Mom has been experiencing multiple health issues, going back more than twenty years. Frank’s death and Mom’s health issues were both marked with a fall down the same set of steps. I worried about that happening for years and kept warning them. Now it’s taken Frank.
Frank’s passing is a big shock to Mom’s way of life. Frank still drove his car, although it could be terrifying at times. He was 95 and almost blind in one eye, so there were some “Yikes!” moments. Well, many “Yikes!” moments. But he shopped for Mom, took her to her appointments, picked up her prescriptions, helped her dress and clean, and so many other things that a spouse does for their other. He also contributed to paying her bills. With Frank gone, who was going to do these things for Mom?
Little sis, the powerhouse of the family, sent me a text today that she’s been busy getting ready for Mom to move.
Turns out, even before Frank passed away, sis suggested to Mom that Mom live with sis in her house. Sis has a full house already. Her youngest daughter and boyfriend live with her. So does her hubby. But sis has a finished half basement which they’d set up as an exercise space and lounge. It has its own bathroom. Now sis is cleaning it up and setting it up as Mom’s new permanent residence. The floor is level so she can wheel around with no problem. There’s a refrigerator down there. The aforementioned bathroom. It’s connected to the garage so she can roll right out to the car as needed.
As sis puts it, Mom could also go upstairs with some help, so she can participate in things. Mom will be contributing to electricity, sewer, and water to help defray the increased costs.
Sis has cleaned out Mom’s kitchen cupboards already. She found a can of cocoa in there that she says might have been from a time before manufacturers were required to put expiration dates on cans.
It is so good to have such a capable and energetic little sister. Gotta love her.
Today is Thirstda, October 16, 2025. Fall sky and trees are in concert with sunshine and a spectrum of leafy colors to play against blue. Kind of visual that shows up on postcards and travelogues. Chilly 47 F but dry. Sun and air will take us to the upper sixties.
Met with my supplier last night. “Here,” she said, offering a brown paper bag. I glanced around for police or witnesses before accepting the bag. “Thanks.” She smiled. “Enjoy.”
Back in the truck, I told my driver, “Hit it.” Only then did I open the bag and peer in. Grins spread over my expression at the pretty collection of late-season figs.
Bad news for us on the ‘No Kings’ front. Ashland’s rally for this Satyrda was canceled. Couldn’t get a permit. We’ll attend the one in Medford instead.
The Epstein Shutdown has consumed over half of October of 2025. We’re still well short of the longest shutdown. That would be the Trump Shutdown of 2018-2019, which lasted 35 days. Large differences between the two include what DOGE did to the government before this shutdown, gutting the Federal infrastructure, mobilizing national guard units before this shutdown, and the deepening darkness of what’s going on with Federal spending as those functions have been kneecapped or muted. Also different this time is the capitulation of so many mainstream media outlets, aided by billionaire ownership who donate and support Trump. Last, of course, is the notorious masked ICE. They weren’t the unleashed paramilitary group they now are. Led by Kristi Noem, this force has demonstrated an eagerness to violently assault anyone who might by the wrong skin color, is in the wrong place, speaks with the wrong accent, or rolls their eyes at them.
The unsurprising news was delivered to us today that Mom’s boyfriend, Frank, passed away this morning. He would have been 96 in January. Love and light to Frank.
When Frank had his fall that precipitated his hospital stay and passing, he didn’t want Mom to call an ambulance or take him to the hospital. Told her that he was fine.
Today’s song is for Frank. Frank was a rock, dependable, reliable, steady, consistent. Not surprising that The Neurons placed “Carry On” by Fun in the morning mental music stream when the news came. Sample lyrics.
If you’re lost and alone Or you’re sinking like a stone. Carry on. May your past be the sound Of your feet upon the ground. Carry on.
Time to carry on after a few more gulps of coffee. Hope peace and grace finds us and lifts us up, and does so pretty damn soon. Okay, here we go. Cheers
Another rock and roll October fall day has pitched itself over Ashlandia. 39 F now, we’re expected to get over the 60 F hump and cruise to 67 F before falling back down to 40. The pattern is obvious by now, Wenzdaz, October 15, 2025. The nights are taking control, lengthening, growing colder. We know that means, winter is comin’.
No change in news from Dad’s locations. On Mom’s side, sis took Mom to see Frank. Wasn’t a good visit, as he was out of it. Mom told sis, she doesn’t think she can see him like that again. Frank is on 10 L/minute of O2 now but was on 15 as of yesterday morning. He can’t be moved from ICU until he is on 5.
After the visit, sis took Mom to get a flu shot and COVID booster, then went back that evening and made her dinner and visited with her. Another sister had a visit to Mom planned for Monday. No updates from that.
The Epstein Shutdown of 2025 continues. It’ been two weeks.
As part of the shutdown, the Trump regime employed reverse-day logic to RIF gov. employees. CNN published a story that finely chopped up the Trump-Vance-Johnson GOP tale that, “Gosh, the Democrats made us let go of people because the government is shut down.”
Vice President JD Vance said Sunday that layoffs during the government shutdown are needed to continue critical federal assistance programs, including the WIC nutrition assistance program, and to pay the military.
“We have to lay off some federal workers in the midst of this shutdown to preserve the essential benefits for the American people that the government does provide,” he said on NBC’s “Meet the Press,” blaming Democrats for the reductions.
However, budget experts pointed to several reasons why Vance’s statement wasn’t true. Among them, many federal workers aren’t being paid during the shutdown, so laying them off wouldn’t free up any funds — plus, if they were being paid, the money wouldn’t be available for 60 days, when most must actually leave their jobs, said Bobby Kogan, senior director of federal budget policy at the left-leaning Center for American Progress and a former OMB official during the Biden administration. Also, the Trump administration last week said it will extend WIC’s funding using tariff revenue.
What’s more, any funds saved by laying off several thousand federal employees would be only a tiny fraction of what’s needed to fund WIC and the military, said Michael Linden, a former senior OMB official during the Biden administration who is now a senior policy fellow at the left-leaning Washington Center for Equitable Growth.
Yes, that’s right, it’s another Trump Regime lie exposed. Should be news — well, it was, I guess, because it was covered by CNN — but the Trump Regime lies every day, almost every hour. Those of a MAGA heart pay no heed until Trump’s actions hit them hard enough on the head to shake their beliefs. The Trump WH is a swampland of lies and corruption. It’ll take some serious work to drain that swamp and rebuild it into a functioning democractic government and kick down the disastrous framework that is Project 2025. Meanwhile, farmers are going belly up from the lack of infrastructure to support them. Prices are rising. Employment is falling. Shortages are appearing, and foreclosures are climbing. The Trump Destruction Machine is tearing the nation down.
Riddle: how many Trump Regime officials does it take to tell the truth? No one can guess because it’s never happened.
Today’s song is “Skateaway” by Dire Straits. In my head, this is called “Rollergirl”. Yes, this was obliquely related to a dream sequence of moi. Had sufficient substance found in it that The Neurons made the call to feature it in the morning mental music stream.
Here’s a lyrics sampling that prompts my head to call the song “Rollergirl”.
She gets rock and roll and a rock and roll station And a rock and roll dream She’s making movies on location She don’t know what it means And the music make her wanna be the story And the story was whatever was the song, what it was Rollergirl, don’t worry D.J. play the movies all night long, all night long
Coffee is being re-homed into my body as I type. Time to rock another day before it rocks me. Hope peace and grace comes out of the shadows to warm and shelter us all. Till then, here we go, one more time around the sun. Cheers
Munda, October 13, 2025. Rain cascading onto the roof and hammered me awake.40 F outside with a high of 52 on order. I asked Alexa about the weather. She said it was cloudy. I asked her if it was going to rain. “It might rain starting at 9 AM but it should stop by 10 AM.” This was at 7:30 as the rain drove down.
Mom’s boyfriend, Frank, is in the ICU for afib. He’s 95 and suffering from multiple issues stemming from a fall down the stairs last week, but has cancer that predates his fall. Mom told my sister that she wanted to get Frank’s phone to see if he’d been talking with Joan. Joan was Frank’s best friend’s wife. When he saw Joan after his best friend died, Frank kissed Joan. Mom was furious and has claimed ever since that Frank is secretly meeting with Joan. Mom told sis, “If I find out that he’s been talking to her, then I’ll throw him out.” She then kept calling Frank’s daughter to see if she had Frank’s phone. Sis reminded Mom that Frank was in the ICU and may not live. “I know,” Mom answered. We’re not sure that she does.
Sister’s text exchange relating got The Neurons to play the Gin Blossoms with “Follow You Down” in the morning mental music stream. Don’t ask me what they’re thinking.
My wife has no energy today and seems down but it’s our day to do food deliveries, so here we go. May grace and peace find and keep us. Cheers
Rain just kicked in here. Dark and gloomy. Feels lifted from a gothic novel. All the blinds are up but sunshine has vacated its post. The rain though, is a comforting background song. Fall is here, the scene outside proclaims. Get used to it.
We will. Then we’ll tire of it, and the great conveyor belt will carry winter to us. We’ll get used to that and tired of that and hit the holidays and a new year and then start looking for spring. It’s almost a tradition.
Papi is tres upset by this weather change. His downcast expression has WTF written large. I tell him, “Stay in, you’ll be happy.” After desultory outdoor expeditions, he agrees and find a space to sleep.
48 F now, we won’t see 60 today. This is Frida, October 20, 2025, in Ashland, Oregon. Ashlandia.
Trump didn’t win the Noble Peace Prize. I am so happy that the deranged bully didn’t win that honor. The prize went to María Corina Machado, from Venezuela, who worked to restore democracy to that nation. Can we get her up here? Trump’s head would explode. And congratulations to María Corina Machado for a well-deserved honor.
Back in ‘Murica, Speaker Mike Johnson (R-Hell) spoke, refreshing the impression that he’s an idiot.
“We’re so angry about it,” he told Fox News. “I mean, I’m a very patient guy, but I have had it with these people,” the Speaker said, emphatically, of Democrats. “They’re playing games with real people’s lives.”
Yeah, that jackass is angry that the Democrats are not caving and that more voters are realizing that the Epstein Shutdown of 2025 is a Trump GOP gift, a product of the Regime’s Misery Machine. Trump and the GOP control Congress and the Oval Office. The self-proclaimed ‘great negotiator’ can’t make a deal. As Donald J. loudly claimed back before he shut the government down three times, a government shutdown shows a weak president. He’s sitting on three. How weak does that prove him to be?
Personal news from home isn’t good. Mom’s BF, Frank, is in pretty bad shape. Hard to get details through the grapevine. Broken ribs, the hip that was replaced, heart issues, and dementia. What he’s enduring has him acting contrary to who he usually is, and he’s being violent, mean, loud, and angry. They have him restrained to a bed, someone watching him 24/7, and mitts on his hands so he can’t pull out tubes and try to escape. Little sister is pulling duty helping Mom. This is a sister who has two children. One of them lives with her. Her daughter’s BF also resides with them. She’s a grandmother who takes those duties seriously and spends time and money on her grands. She works, exercises, cooks for her family and Mom, and also keeps the books for her husband’s plumbing biz. She’s a dynamo and I’m pleased she’s there to help Mom. Other two sisters apparently have some medical problems of their own. They’re not discussing their issues but they’re not visiting Mom much.
Today’s music arises from a conversation with my orange floof, Papi. The weather has him restless. So I sang, “Lay down Papi,” to him to the tune of “Lay Down Sally” by Eric Clapton. “Lay down Papi. You don’t need go outside. I’m been trying all morning long just to pet you,” is what I sang to the boy. Natch, The Neurons were all over that, pumping “Lay Down Sally” into the morning mental music stream. And yep, that’s “Duck” Dunn on bass in this video.
Coffee is cruising through the alimentary system, delivering its needed cargo. Hope peace and grace pops out soon and visits for a prolonged period. Meanwhile, stay strong. I’ll try doing the same. And away we go. Cheers
Summer sensations still regale Ashlandia. 65 F when my eyes met the day, sunshine and blue skies were saying hello. Wind is thrashing like a disjointed washing machine but the temperature is credited with a chance to hit 80 F today. 82 F was seen at my place yesterday, and Papi took full advantage of it to soak in warm sun. For the tape, this is Munda, October 6, 2025.
Went this morning to have blood drawn after overnight fasting. Routine check, ordered months ago. Long line for people at the lab but they were quick, efficient, and friendly. I was soon seen but the tech couldn’t get out of blood of me! She called for backup, as she put it, and blood was found.
News from my POV seems oddly slow and stilted for a Munda. I think it’s because Trump is pulling another TACO act and hiding out from criticism and rulings against him. Part of this might also be because he’s physically and mentally failing in multiple ways, and it’s becoming more greatly exposed each time a camera or microphone finds him. Amazing how the military isn’t being paid; he reassures them, don’t worry about it. Great empathy, once again! I hear he did have another meltdown about being unappreciated and misunderstood, going on a poor little rich TACO once again. Poor little man baby.
The Epstein Shutdown continues without change. GOP left D.C. with a shrug and refuse to negotiate with the Democrats. The GOP sputtering, mewing blame game is weakening. The majority of voters polled said, “This is on Trump and the GOP.” Firm Trumpheads still insist it’s on the Democrats but they’re stay as fact resistant as Trump and speak from an alternate reality that echos with NAZI and imperial white supremacy tones.
Cowardly Trump and the spineless GOP really don’t want to the Epstein files released. They’d rather break the nation and destroy the economy before they let us see what those files have on Donald J. Trump.
Today’s song was put into the morning mental stream out of reflections about plans to visit Mom and family. As part of that, I thought, see some family, good for the soul. Resonating with Der Neurons, they dialed up Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band. Into the MMMS flowed “Hollywood Nights”. Remember, Bob sings, “See some old friends, good for the soul.” And there’s Les Neurons’ connection.
Then, new from Mom’s was texted in. Mom reported hearing a loud crash and several thumps. She knew her BF, Frank, had gone upstairs and concluded that he’d fallen. Mom called for an ambulance and texted my sister. Sis arrived in time to see the ambulance taking Frank away. We’re guessing from evidence that Frank had used the toilet and was undressing from his pajamas when he lost balance and fell down the stairs. Mom has a gallery of family photos along the lower part of the wall. Half were knocked off. Newest text report just arrived from sis.
It’s not good news about Frank. He broke several ribs on both sides. He fractured his hip. The one that was replaced. They’re going to call his operative doctor to ask him what he wants to do about that. I can’t think of his name. they aren’t gonna do anything about the ribs, cause there is nothing to do but let them heal. Also, his heart was out of rhythm when he got there and told him he had chest pains last night and took some nitroglycerin, but never told mom.
Frank is 95.
He’s in my thoughts and worries now, along with Mom. Peace and grace to all of us. Now, off for coffee. Have a dental appointment in three hours. Hope you have a great day. Cheers
Dreary sunshine and bleached skies say hello when Papi and I step out to inspect the morning. It’s 49 F in Ashlandia today, Satyrda, October 4, 2025. A high of 60 is anticipated. The furnace was turned on to dispel some of the morning chill, as it was just 67 F in the house. Despite these clouds, rain is not a worry for us. Personal note, today is the 51st anniversary of when I swore my oath to defend the Constitution in the U.S. military.
All my appointments went very well Thursday. Texted Mom to tell her we’re coming to Pittsburgh for her 90th birthday. She says she’s looking forward to seeing us but is busy painting the kitchen cupboards right now. Dad remains in rehab in Texas. Spoke to him, and he was in terrific spirits and sounded strong, healthy, and alert.
Trump’s Venezuelan body count is 21 after U.S. missiles destroyed another boat. That’s number four. What’s the body count over/under for a Nobel Peace Prize?
The Weariness Meter is in the upper ranges today. I feel I’m flagging over the news. Think I’ll take a time out from keeping up to date. That general malaise striking me had me thinking about past and present. 1974, when I graduated from high school and joined the military, still appears as a decent year when I look back through time’s long lens. This year, 2025, feels like a terrible year on multiple levels. Reflections have me treading on a path of thought about how much we’ve regressed in my lifetime. Most of that came in the last 20 years. Hell, most of it came with Trump’s takeover of the White House in 2025. Much of it is due to Russ Vought and Project 2025 and their effective use of Trump as a dupe.
The Neurons decide to cheer me up with “Here’s Where the Story Ends” by Sundays in my morning mental music stream. Sample lyrics for you from Songfacts.com.
Crazy I know, places I go Make me feel so tired I can see how people look down I’m on the outside
Oh, Here’s where the story ends Ooh, Here’s where the story ends
It’s that little souvenir of a terrible year Which makes my eyes feel sore And who ever would’ve thought the books that you brought Were all I loved you for Oh the devil in me said go down to the shed I know where I belong But the only thing I ever really wanted to say Was wrong, was wrong, was wrong
It’s that little souvenir of a colorful year Which makes me smile inside So I cynically, cynically say the world is that way Surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise
Here’s where the post ends. Hope grace and peace pop up for us someday soon. Got my coffee. Time to motor. Cheers
My wife and I had a minor disagreement the other day.
I had surgery to repair a ruptured tendon last year, in October, 2024. I’ve had pain of various kinds since then. One source of pain was along toes three to five, which was often stiff with burning pain. I’d mentioned it to my surgeon, as it began during my convalescence from surgery. He said that it sounds like a nerve was damaged. I felt the same. Although I’m not a medical expert or doctor, etc., I broke and dislocated a wrist in my late twenties. Pins casts immobilized that wrist and arm. I suffered from a burning, painful sensation along the pin sites after they were removed. My doc back then told me it was probably nerve damage. It did go away after about twenty years. This foot pain felt just like that pain.
While walking the other day, I felt a sudden sharp and painful snap in my foot where the toe pain resides. After gasping and slowing for a second, I resumed walking. Lo, that foot pain was gone. It hasn’t come back.
I was so elated. I went home and told my wife. She responded, “Why is this the first that I’m hearing about this?”
One, it wasn’t the first she was hearing about it. She’d forgotten me mentioning it, but I spoke about in early January of this year. I don’t blame her for forgetting it. We don’t remember everything we’re told.
Two was a broader philosophical position. Basically, I don’t tell her about every pain I endure. I’m aging, and have pains from time to time. Feet, ankle, hips, neck, shoulder, back, abdomen, eyes, etc. Those pains often go away. Their duration can last anywhere from a few hours to a week. Sometimes they limit movement, and more rarely limit my activities. My point is, pain comes and goes. I prefer to not complain. And then means, to me, not mentioning.
And there’s a little history in that. Number one was Mom. Mom as a mother often told us to stop crying, stop whining, stop complaining. She wanted us to be happy children. If we couldn’t be happy, she wanted us to be quiet.
Then there’s history with my wife about this. Long ago, when I was twenty, I was severely sick for several days. We didn’t see doctors back then for things like that. Basically vomiting, not eating, listless, sweating a lot, lot of pain. That pain resulted in some moaning and groaning.
Yeah, I got over it and lived. But about a year later, my wife was speaking to others and talked about what a baby I was when I was sick and hurt. That insulted and angered me. I told her so when we were alone. It since became a theme for her to talk about how often men complain about being sick or hurt when women are so much hardier, and more willing to endure. I finally mentioned to my wife that I disliked this reductivism about men and pain. She’s done it off and on since, and once, after seeing me give her a look when she made such a statement, apologized and claimed that she wasn’t including me. Since then, she’s slowly drifted out of the habit.
But this is how we evolve. We have our basic attitudes and tendencies, and then we react to our environment. Part of that is how we react to what we hear. What is said about us, especially by those we love, admire, and trust. Maybe I’m being thin-skinned, but words matter. Part of my problem, too, is that I seem to have a very strong memory. I don’t easily forget or forgive.
September continues for a few more days. It’s Thirstda, September 25, 2025. 74 F in Ashlandia. Blue but hazy sky. Sunshine. Reaching for 86 F. Leaves have not started freefalling but the fall color shift has begun.
A dream provides today’s music. It was a weird damn dream, featuring the strangest game of basketball ever, and a zombie sort of white man. The dream ended with me victorious in basketball, gaining others’ freedom, and then walking away, leading five others. As I left, I began singing a song made popular by The Animals, “We Gotta Get Out of this Place”. Written by Cynthia Weil and Barry Mann, it’s a powerful protest place against the pressures and conditions of modern first world life, we were become so defined by work, paying bills, and trying to stay safe. When I started singing it in the dream, the others joined in as we walked up and out of a square, concrete tunnel, sort of the kind often encountered in underground parking garages.
Just want to note, BTW, Weil and Mann also wrote the hit songs, “On Broadway”, “Kicks”, “Make Your Own Kind of Music”, “Here You Come Again”, “Walkin’ in the Rain”, and contributed to “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin'”, and “(You’re My) Soul and Inspiration”.
Whenever I think of this song or play it, I remember a childhood incident. I was eight when The Animals came on The Ed Sullivan Show to perform. Mom was very excited; she thought there would be animals singing. So we all tuned in to hear a human rock band singing this song, severely disappointing Mom.
Trump continues throwing apples at bogey threats. Now he’s pretending the violence in the United States is caused by ‘the left’. That’s how it is in his fact-free alternate reality. Actions like this lower freedom, democracy, unity, and respect. But it makes Trump feel pretty.
Deification of Charlie Kirk mounts. Put his likeness on the silver dollar, Republicans urge. Sure, cement this era’s insanity for the future to more fully and completely understand.
A government shutdown crawls closer. Trump refuses to negotiate with Democrats, chickening out once again, because he knows he’s a terrible negotiator. TACO, in control of the House and Senate, wi;th the Supreme Court backing him, has to resort to lying on the net once again in support of his alternate reality, this time claiming that Democrats want to give trillions illegal immigrants. It’s as shady and ugly as previous lies he’s made, like immigrants are eating people’s pets. His fact-free existence continues as a problem for the rest of us. From his ridiculously uninformed medical advice to his absurd grasp of history and his overinflated sense of himself, all he does breaks down centuries of trust, progress, hope, and peace.
As a bully, Trump is threatening to be cruel and stupid as part of the shutdown. That’s his normal style. Bully, bluster, blame others, and do stupid things. In this case, the WH issued guidance that it’ll use the shutdown to fire folks. “With respect to those Federal programs whose funding would lapse and which are otherwise unfunded, such programs are no longer statutorily required to be carried out,” the memo says. “RIF notices will be in addition to any furlough notices provided due to the lapse in appropriation.”
It’s part of the Trump Offal Office Circus. The GSA just announced it’s hiring people Trump let go through DOGE because getting rid of them screwed up the government. Ditto, the IRS. Now, here goes TACO down the same alternate reality hole he always goes, dragging the nation and world down with him.
I wonder what Trump’s BFF, Jeffrey Epstein, would say at this point?
Well, got coffee, so I’m good for the moment. Hope peace and grace grows stronger in the face of Trumpnanigans.
Another still chill morning embraces Ashlandia. Sunda, September 21, 2025. Awakening at 7:07 AM, I stare at the time and the light, noting how much morning light we’ve already shed as we edge forward and autumn gets ready to pounce on us. 66 F, 76 F is the day’s expected high, with muddled clouds squatting on us.
My wife is angry with her phone today. Not a phone savvy person. It makes noises at her and she barks, “What,” and picks it up with a malevolent gaze. It wouldn’t surprise me if she throws it down. She and phones are not friends. She plays a video of the “We Don’t Care Club” which has us laughing. Here’s a sample.
Sis shared photos of Mom in her new room. Looks warm, full of light, but cozy. I think Mom will be happy there for a while. We hope being on one level will reduce her fall risk. We’re all at least mollified for a while that she should move into assisted living.
Trump’s continued attacks on the United States has me infuriated. More Americans disapprove of his actions. A gap is growing between MAGA and non-MAGA Republicans. MAGA think Trump will deliver them to the land of milk and honey. Polls show that the wealthy, with the financial padding and income to pay more for goods, are increasingly happy with Trump’s policies. Not a surprise. Trump is exercising leverage and power through the Federal structure. The latest is his H1B 100K plan. That’s sure to gouge the U.S. healthcare system, technology development, higher education, and the economy. Trump and the GOP powers will be happy. As the fallout trickles down to the MAGAs, they’ll get upset but they’ll reliably blame Obama, Biden, and Democrats in general. Then Trump will attack another ship or place, kill a few more in the name of peace, and MAGA attention will wander away. Meanwhile, Trump makes himself richer at all others’ expense.
Meanwhile, my wife and I were just discussing someone’s bizarre explanation about how an earthquake shows that God was upset with Charlie Kirk’s death. Next, we might start hearing that Kirk actually rose after three days.
Today’s song emerges from Papi and I doing late night stargazing. Just considering the stars last night, I wondered about those far-off gems. They seem so docile out here but to consider them as explosive places, places with gravity that can suck me in, crush me like a can under a garbage truck, trips the mind into deep wonder. That brought up the line, “Someday you will find me caught beneath a landslide in a champagne supernova in the sky.” And here we are, with the song still playing in my morning mental music stream.
May peace and grace find you, and do it soon, damn it. Off I go, into the mildly cloudy day. Cheers
