The Diary Project

Weekly Journal

Smoke Smudged Skies

The sun near sunset showing off its corona through a hazy smoke filled sky

Pictures are never as they seem.
But this is pretty close to how things seemed at the time.

Time To Let Go Of The Dead Wood

DREAM: There wasn't enough headroom in the crowded vehicle where they were meeting, so I'd already decided to quit whatever after school activity group this was.

WRITING: Monday has become Post The Journal Day.

WALK: There are too many people in this park.

SORT: Playing Cards. It's time to lighten the load. I haven't used these for fifteen years. Each card depicts a different Cartoon Scene. And so, they made a nice Modern Tarot Card Deck Replacement. But that's no longer an activity I care about.

SORT: Various Runes. Call them Good Luck Charms if you wish. For slightly different reasons, it is time to lighten the load and refocus on what's important. All will be tossed in The Bin, as that is all the burial they deserve and/or are due.
Covid Quarter: I have better. Also, it never came clean.
Bicentennial Quarter: I have this? Why do I have this? I tossed both quarters in the coin bowl.
Necklace: Cheap. It belongs to a Pocket Watch, which I am keeping.
Elephant Keychain Charm: Sorry. Bye. I don't think I'll either forgive or forget.
Mood Ring: Broken. The mood part hasn't worked for decades. It was a remembrance of a person. But they'd never given it to me. And... broken.
Two Keys: These are more of a negative reminder... like I'm going to forget.
Two Checks: Proof... made trivially unimportant by the passage of time.
One More Check: I don't know why I ever kept this particular check. Though, I got to say, the money is starting to feel like a bit of an albatross. I will die with money in the bank... probably, most likely, let us not tempt fate, after all. But assuming I'll have leftovers, what's a few more dollars more-or-less?
Ruby Pin: Let us make sure it's not Ruby, first. Eh, who knows? The pin might be semi-silver. The finding sucks. It's trash. I can't be bothered to sell it, anyway. It was an item of momentary desire, poisoned by the passage of time.

The most likely explanation is that like a cuckoo I was swapped out at the hospital at birth.

MEDIA: To Sir, With Love. Well, that's what we saw yesterday. So, today is Lilies Of The Field.

Taking It Easy

DREAM: He was burning the midnight oil trying to put together a deal to make a lot of phones, so an obvious metaphor concerning communication. I was there, rolling-up my sleeves, eating fancy meals, and not getting it done right by his side. Communication failure. The new (neural) circuits were not installed.

DREAM: If life is a sheet of divine energy, there are balls of colorful light that cascade down the centuries, call them curses. There is a lot of cross over with EDM & DMT, here. Also, not sure if it's a Dream or a Night Thought. Self perpetuating curses rippling through time. Are there countervailing blessings bubbling up, as well?

I don't feel like spending my day standing in front of a computer writing.

EYES: I can see. What more do you want?

I think I crush my ear in my sleep and this is causing much of the problem: soreness and waxy build-up. Hey, this is what you get when you read An Old Man's Journal.

MEDIA: Terence McKenna. Well. Well. His last name shows up in spell-check. That's when you know you've arrived... or your last name is fairly common. Anyway, I've been enjoying McKenna for a few days now. I presume he's one of those Hippy Philosopher types.

Also, that Cursed Ball of energy vision (with any luck) will be transformative. A Historical (Pre-Existing) Curse, after all, is not a personal affront. It's more like a Force of Nature.

MUSE: Tommy & Bug Hunter are pretty much the same story. Teenagers wake up from an Intoxicant Induced Trance (Blood Spider, River Asp), live life (sight unseen), and Smoke Venom again as An Elderly Couple (i.e. An Old Man & Woman), thereby repeating The Loop with a House Break-In as a Sub Loop.

Anyway, between Tommy and The Cursed Ball, my mind is engaged.

WALK: That's some mighty green grass. I guess that mini-drought is long gone.

WALK (SORT): I'm leaving The Baseballs (more or less) where I found them. Day by Day. Two, today. This could just as easily be under SORT. In fact, I've switched The Tag back-and-forth a few times now.

I haven't fallen asleep (or taken a nap) beneath a tree in a long time.

Interesting Sun. Maybe, I'll dig out My Real Camera, tomorrow.

MEDIA: Lilies OF The Field, which I'd forgotten to mention at the time. {Of course, I did mention it. So, it just goes to show how little I remember.}

MEDIA: Midnight Diner - Season Two

Lying in bed working on Bug Juice (see Tommy, above), the current title of choice. But if it's a Long Form Go, I won't start until Monday, while a Short Form Poem could get written over the weekend. Might be interesting to try Ultra Short Form... see if I can get it out.

I Should Do Some Work This Week

DREAM: Even though the disagreement lasted much of the night, I cannot even remember the outline form of the argument.

DREAM: It is clear we didn't know what we were doing. But somehow we managed to keep our jobs and not get fired.

WRITING: It has been a productive day. I think I need to start a major project to maintain interest.

MEDIA: Alan Watts. He speaks slow. I question whether I value his words or his way. There is a soothing flow of information. But could he just as easily be reading from a Children's Book?

FEEL: My mind is groggy. I got writing out (i.e. I was productive). But having written, I don't feel much like thinking and the thoughts are shattered, disjoint, and flat. The last implying a lack of nuance or depth of meaning. Hence, drivelling entries like this one come easy... or at least, naturally.

I wonder what it is that I don't like about Swiss Cheese. I like The Swiss People. So, it can't be that. And Cheddar Cheese is fairly awesome {even if I hate The Cheddar People, themselves}. But all that aside, Swiss Cheese still misses the mark somehow. Maybe, I am just eternally comparing Swiss to Cheddar. And it eternally loses in the comparison.

FOOD: Spaghetti

I can kill much of the pain associated with an event by wrapping it in a Meta-Analysis. It's God's Will. It's just a game. None of this will matter in one-thousand years. And so on.

I'm exhausted. Something is up. Didn't I feel this way like a week ago. I am plum tuckered out.

A Good Day

DREAM: No. That is not the guy I was just talking with on the phone about a delivery. He's got a sleeping bag slung over his shoulder. He's homeless.

DREAM: Bruce Holiday. It's not even correct. He had a slightly different name, which is missing from my In Dream Life Notes (i.e. the notes I took In Dream). Anyhow, he might be a fun guy to have visit.

DREAM: It was just blowing around a bit in the wind. But next thing I know, three of us are on an air mattress, in the sky, up in the clouds, flying over the mountains. Just as long as my arm is wrapped around here, I'm safe, no need to worry. So, I did not.

DREAM: I am working on the assumption that my mind uses certain repetitive metaphors. Roads and such would be the path a Neural Grouping takes (call it a meme), while people are Alternate Neural Groupings (other than the one one I'm on). Paths lead to People who in turn become more Paths. It seemed a bit smarter before I wrote it down. But it remains my working hypothesis... begging the question as to how one might test said hypothesis.

I slept way in. I was exhausted yesterday and just couldn't find the will to get out of bed.

WRITING: I'd say it went pretty well. Posted a Quickie, started the edit on Working Man, and conceptually organized JJ 2019_02 {JJ = Judging The Judges}, Along with completing the intro. So, sort of light, but it felt good.

EYES: Suck. But I'm not despondent. I'm more in denial of my mortality, busy dreaming of reincarnation. This ties in to Bug Hunter.

FOOD: Mediterranean Meat Lovers Special

WALK: Sunset Walk. It wasn't impressive. Well, the sun is: nice and orange. But there were few clouds. In other news, someone (some kid) left a baseball glove {so, call it a mitt} behind after the game.

If other people have done it, do I need to? The idea having more to do with Universal Awareness. Others are aware. So, what does The Universe gain from my awareness? Hence, let us conclude that fundamentally I am religious... or at least, spiritual.

But Nothing More.

Poetry that needs to be explained sucks. And I feel the need to explain the above. So clearly, it sucks... indicating (in a circular sort of way) it may need to be explained. Thus, let me explain. I have the desire to write... but lack the will (and/or brainpower) to follow through. Or in other words, The Story Of My Life.

Also, I notice I edit 'Poetry' (and/or its accompanying explanatory remarks) far more intensely than my other writing.

Quiver The Bow: Returning The Arrow Of Time... A Bug Hunt Novel

Fry Day

FEEL: I was essentially apologizing to the rest of my mind for not being a very good ego: i.e. a poor leader. But the general consensus was that I had led us to My Sweetie, so I couldn't be all that bad.

DREAM: I had two revolvers and plenty of bullets. So, the problem was one of keeping them loaded. Essentially, I failed, slowly but surely. The need to fire overtaking the secondary concern of loading my back-up (call it a secondary) gun.

DREAM: Less grim this time, elections were used to eliminate the competition. The double-cross required him to lie directly to another. Is this a skill set we trust/admire? While what I remember most was the snow covered driveway and looking forward to sliding down on the underlying ice. Somewhere along the way, I decided not to knock on the door.

WRITING: Getting 'er Done

FOOD: Leftover Meat Feast

EYES: Cloudy

Bug Hunter: "Dead at 26!" It was a curse. But he never guessed it would lift on his 27th Birthday! So, unlimited loops to fill the line. Repeats OK!

Slow Lazy Day

Know how they put water in bottles and sold it premium? Don't you think it's about time the same thing happened with ice? Alaska Ice! Neptune Nuggets! Moon Rocks! Polar Vortex!

FOOD: Spaghetti

Do we find it pleasing to assume Life (as we know it) is akin to Contract Bridge for Some Others... Our Selfs?

"It's my stupid stuff that will be remembered."

And The Dragon muses quietly to himself {in response to a girl's happy singing as she walks along a mountain path}, "Oh, is that The Eat Me I Taste Good Song?"

WALK: Sitting on A Bench in The Shade

A Life Of Dissipation

FOOD: Shrimp
FOOD: Cheese
FOOD: Tortilla, Chicken-Cheese
FOOD: Jelly Toast

Some Day
Some Day Is Running Out

DREAM: The highway interchange had become flooded (and likely, always had been). I was in a little blow up dingy going through the rapids. Bubbles indicated whales below (like surfacing submarines), which one wanted to avoid lest one get bitten... or swallowed whole.

Got up late. No surprise there.

I am told The Death Toll exceeds 200,000. {This seems wrong, now. So not quite. We are still nearing that number a few days later.} So, remind me. What did I predict? Did I win the pool?

WRITING: JJ 2019_02 is done. And I formatted (and/or partially formatted) the data for graphing.

The foreign guys are talking up a storm out by the bin. They actually hang out by each other's cars. But their cars are fairly close to the bin. Eastern European would be my guess. I don't know that I've ever heard any of them speak a word of English. At this point, we're pretty good at ignoring each other.

SORT: Three small {+/-2"} toy figurines. Yeah. It's not much. But I don't own much... not much, at all.

WALK: Smoky.

FOOD: Chicken Cheese Salad

Next Diary Project Entry

Home Diary Project Index

The Smoke is getting to me.

© copyright 2020 Brett Paufler