The night is neatly wrapped. Thoroughly over. Nerves calmed and wounds bandaged. I'm better. I wonder how it is that I think of this thing that could be a calling in the same way as I think of my diabetes or my Ideopathic Thrombocyopenia Purpura. But over all I'm very glad it happened and I'll do it again and the bow on the package and a thank you is here.

Following that is me and the yard. I need to get some pictures up here and I strongly need to take some sort of recorder outside with me when I'm mowing or weeding. The thoughts are wonderful if the work is not. The issue being that these thoughts come and go like mornings or orgasms. You never can hold on to them.

Wherever this finds you (and I imagine work terminals and basement PCs and your face-yes, you-as you read this), I am very much sending you spring in Illinois and kind energy. My Chakras are lined and singing on pitch from the root to the seventh crown, from Muladhara to Sahasrara and all points in between.

The yard makes me this disgusting hippie. No, I don't believe this mush and dog dung.

But I do hope you're feeling fine.

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