What is silence to a radio or a cricket? Machines that learn for us, shape us, transform our understanding of love for us. Nothing is ever truly anticipated. Teaching, that's where it's at.
Low rumbling thunder on Saturday morning. Neighbors arguing over who drank more the night before. Life now is one big fucking Turing test. Morrison's command to "break on through to the other side" feels quaint, uninformed, too easy. Forgive me, I was raised with certain biases towards money that have greatly complicated my ability to manage a career. This comes from the top.
Quartz rocks after days of rain especially clear and glittery. She writes to ask are the robins "singing sweetly" for me. You wish you could've heard Jesus preach, at least once, those hot afternoons on the outskirts of some miserable village, you wonder would you have been one of the ones who was changed, went after him, et cetera.
Rain falls, calm and steady, like what I imagine older brothers are like. In my dreams, I-90 is mostly empty, swans fly across it, and the sun to the east is almost blinding.
What is the other side of this awful chemical haze? Why did God make marigolds, why are marigolds so beautiful and sturdy. My Greek wife brings me Greek coffee while I write about Socrates, a Greek. Making sushi as a kind of flex, saying "flex" as a kind of flex.
I'm sad but not forsaken, my happiness is the whole sky and its endless billows of light.
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