November 6, 2021
I am up early this morning, which is fine with me. I don't know exactly what to do with myself today, but that is most days anyway, and I am o.k. with that, too. At least it's still dark outside.
Fell asleep after reading some more out of Guy Murchie's "The Seven Mysteries Of Life." I have had copies of this tome for nearly 30 years now and have yet to finish one yet. I am determined this time, however.
And I start off the day with music, as always. So far, from the list I've cobbled here in another journal: Jet City Woman (Queensryche), My, My (7M3), and Synthentica (Metric).
On to Cousin's "Fourth Floor Balcony Fight." That is some polyrhythmic some-thing (jazz? give it a name...)
I'll probably go by the discount store and buy some small things and then turn around and take them across the parking lot to the thrift store. That whole area of town is going to be gutted soon. I've seen it happen elsewhere, and all that's missing right now are the construction crews. It's going to happen extremely quickly, taking less than 2 years time to complete. I've already mentioned to my dad that when he sees the first skyscraper on clemson boulevard that will be the real beginning of the real end (for these parts).
The people on that side of town are mostly poor already, and will be displaced. It happens with an economic cudgel and there is no choice but to grab a cudgel and turn it into a walking stick, at some point.
I am donating simple things like spirographs and cheap chess and checker sets. Crayons, markers, etc. I know that children are going to be displaced, and I know the feeling of being handicapped by economic conditions and not being able to keep up with the other kids in class because my parent was overwhelmed.
One cashier at a crafts store turned a cynical eye on me when I mentioned dropping the items I was purchasing off somewhere else (she had asked), telling me that it would probably end up in the trash. I told her that was fine, that I had found things in the trash before that had helped me greatly. Which is absolutely true. The best thing I ever found at a dumpster was a Bowflex that someone had dragged out of their apartment complex and left for abandonment. I dragged it to mine and held onto it for about two years, and then dragged what was left of its bones (most of it) to a new dumpster. But I have found other things, and used to have fun going out on Sunday mornings to see what the nouveau riche had tossed, most likely from a similar woman or man's decorating tastes clashing with the actual space they had to work with.
Rambling here, but I was greatly moved by visiting Philadelphia's Magic Gardens, as it's billed, back some years ago now. I love that place.
Now I have to go drink some activated charcoal in water.
Because of the changes in my diet, the loss in weight those changes created, creeping up on age 50 after being through physical and mental hell for decades, society being the sick ziploc bag that it is, and judicious use of cbd oils - my energy levels are usually off of the charts, and I love it. I don't even exercise that much, but I do so daily. Just simple, simple things and movements.
I have been spending a lot of that energy just drawing and sketching, and doing so simply for the act of doing so, not trying to direct the flow of what will come out of my subconscious. This usually leads to a jagged output, or "works" that are unpolished, looking like pastiche-work or whatnot. I don't judge them much and let my hands do what they want to do, which mostly is to move. I've purchased paper, paints, tactile dough, pens, etc.
I'll leave it at that for now. It's 5:45 in the morning and I am listening to "Disco Dust." Gonna have to do some lower back exercises today, as well. Kind of tight there right now.