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Daily Exercies in Breathing Life into Creative Pursuit.

Today, I re-read with more energetice breath to my usual “IN-Spiration, OUT-Inpiratation” huffs and puffs, then read LisaDee’s comment, and had more “energy” to sizzle my eyeballs to re-read and comment in my dear friend’ “inspirational comment” with the subtle, tantalizing bite pulling on “need to comment” upon what was written to me… “funny how some people get to swim downstream while others gotta swim up like siamese fighting fish” and I opened up… and swam on… breathing… on I went… breathing… in puffs and huffs… looking at the clock and refraining from it to get into other issues, like washing clothes, or daring to iron them… off i went into this “IN-Spiration, OUT-Inpiratation” to get into a “huff puff” mood… AND GO GOSH…
Here I am… Oh lordy i but it feels akin to them “siamese fighting fish” sweating hard… hard… and yet harder all the time with all that darn mess o’ swimmin’ up at and in some sort of zig-zagged one slosh up pant-er… then upward “HO” and “HOP” -oh yes, you “hopped” into my thoughts… a big thank you too…

But I went then a “2 sloshed down one step”… then, it was followed with them 10 up and quick 7 downers… then onto other 7 up variations… followed by other 12 up a/o downers… and so on… on… and so, on with another “beat goes on” internal pull… pulls, pulling me on to more much to work ons… oh and then to just slish, slash splat-splatter with them drywater baths…

Then them ahhhs… oohhs for brief “buts” then wow’s… a big PLOP… oh it caused BIG “inspiration” once-upon-last-summer heated time… I a’wrote about “Ted”… yes it really inspired me in rythms and rhyme.s.. that “internal drummer beated with a passion”… “Ted is Dead” a tale of a “real classy silver fish” with “bright black knowing eyes” but alas… OFF TED WENT…

But.to where? But he really was there… and Ted was really dead too… but oh so very, very small, and pleasant in his peaceful state of waiting knowledges…

OH how POTENT HE WAS IN SMELL… But that was in the back then memory lane of things… O woe how the agony of losing TED somewhere in the big caordic small world of appartment of continually made survival late August to fry up and anquish my body…. Oh but TED went into something, somewhere, but into what when did it happen? Or shall it permanently remain in memory? As an elogical poem? And but within the determination of TED’s SPIRIT in finding another TED to Carry put his MISSION…. into CREATING that BIG SANDY PICTURE? Onto CANVAS?

Oh but when shall time permit, and how? And yes with with that same amount of ZEAL… AND with the agony of keeping the same sands in the same little plastic bag… and with them same shells, the same passionate energy… to get onto the paper, glue, the silvery paints… BUT oh my gosh… NO TED… BUT where is Ted? Around where? In memory of perfection? Or “memory” of “funky perfumery” oh gosh but how small, how potently powerful in wiffy to all 3 in the car back in the Memory of Ausust of 2007… in the heat of the moment of travel… oh what a memory… (heh-heh) but he’s perhaps SOMEWHERE STILL THERE… but somewhere in the “sea of big issues” to be weeded out from, but is he really still there intack? Of all the time in my big ms mind-fuzzed out methodogy of memory? Memories?

Somewhere there are still lights in them corners o’my mind, or within some type of “Dorothy Dream Tale” in another far off time of land of getting my child to wake with her wearing other colours of shoes… with Toto digging into all the wrong places… but always “Ozzing” into trips to where are always there… but when, when or how they end…

OH, but just stay ‘tuned… to Roger as he dodges? To them “possible 3 strikes” before "who’s out?" Oh, just stay tuned to “LOOKING FOR TED…” and remember to smile as you hum “somewhere over the rainbow” and turn to look at the beauty of them changing clouds and smile.

Journal Comments

  • RareSpecies
  • Stacey Hatton