Writing has become effortless. Now I would love to simplify my publishing process. With any luck, I might be able to reach readers eventually. Ideally I can: Write a post through the WYSIWIG/Markdown editor on Forestry.io. Have Forestry auto-publish the post and sync it to the Github repo. Have the Hugo deployment hosted on Zeit Now listen for pushes to the repo and update the site with the new post.


We are being
nothing but a field of
chance dancing ecstatic
in every direction
in every dimension
at every frequency
no gaps, no bounds,
all possibilities,
colors, shapes, sizes.

We are being
pure awareness
experiencing ourself as membranes,
definers of boundaries,
constructors of relativity theories,
wave function crashers,
attention peddlers
noticing ins and outs,
ups and downs,
this…


I rode the mid-night-mare
to the end of the light line
to principal certainty
to free will or won’t be.

Fields of the possible
sown with intention
shade the periphery;
our path lies between.

No house could hold it,
this terminal spotlight,
growing larger and farther
as we trample the shadows…


Grandma Cecilia’s Sports Banter

Good score, runnerman!
I root for the home team:
a nicely seasoned ticket.
Root root root!

Glad you grounded out.
You were a high fly ball player.
Hunker in the dugout.
Ninth, bottom, two out, two strike.

Slammajamma!
Sidelined. Pass it in.
"Double dribble!" says the whistle. …


Immortan Joe as portrayed by Claudia Bagolin

Can I redeem the suffering of my existence?
Will I crest the wave, reach the cusp?
Facetime with the singularity of my spacetime?

I won’t know until later.
I may not know until I am far off this plane
and have boarded the next one. …


All apologies, my dear Americans. (source)

My mouth is agape. I feel awoken into a nightmare. I feel deeply sorry for what has come to pass. And yes, this too shall pass, but not for some more years. My dear friend and colleague, Josh Dzielak, has written a brilliant, heartfelt apology which I strongly recommend you…


You couldn’t.
Who would try?
Why claim me
as the cloud over your soggy sigh?

Feeling follows perceiving
(‘c’ b4 ‘i’)
happenings sensed
at the time in the moment.
Your acid I neutralize.

Make me to feel.
I dare you to try.
Take me in.
Make me smile.
Do your worst, make me cry.

Make me feel!
Make me writhe!
Make me try to know self.
Help me find reasons why.
Lick the salt as tears dry.

Better still, help me out.
Stop making me feel, smile, cry.
Since you couldn’t if you tried.
Help me, heal me, feel me
love me deeply, till we die.

Manifest any demon you like.
Hold your hurt hands high.
I’ll come up with you.

We are all bound to die,
but we will not be made or unmade,
We will feel,
but we will not be made to feel.


The daily prompt from Day One just blooped down from the menu bar. Good on you, Day One, you nailed me on this one. But this is no diary entry, it’s one for everyone.

TL; DR: Short answer? No.

My Dad has often said: “I don’t regret the things I’ve done, I regret the things…


We drifted onto Tamarind’s airbed and breakfast,
with an old polar bear lying guard the floor,
who’d nearly hanged himself just days before.

Katie ushered us through the gate.
Sidelong eyes, sincere smile.
Their policy? Doors open.
New-old friends lived inside.

We nestled in the guest-room, bumped the day and…

Atmanaut

Still•now•here

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