bread and roses

there's a cloudsky today. i like a good cloudsky. easier to be inward if you need to be.

driving back from houston it was raining. there were stretches of no cars on the highway, just landscape and some cows and a good-lookin barn or two. those stretches are what i go lookin for, when its just you and the landscape and between the two you get some problem-solving in.

like, when will i feel like im there? how will art ever survive in the morass of ignorance in commerce? did they discontinue good n plenty candy or what? and, why? it's so good. among the million other more private and serious landscape-worthy agendas, all fueled by that beautiful global conglomerate coffee, in a short cup with an extra shot.

here's december which is fine but i am not up to stomaching the usual drone of overplayed carols and whatnot. on thanksgiving i fasted-- it was my antidote and i was quiet to listen for a real feeling of thanksgiving, which came after i'd gone to bed and in the dark the feeling came, and i felt peaceful for the first time in a long one.

ive been reading books that have been given to me or left on my bookshelf by visitors. the witch of portobello by paolo coelho, firebrand by marion zimmer bradley. a rash of novels which i never read but it's been good. ive had to spend time in bed so it's helped.

there's gecko which has turned into a monster living at my front door. he hangs out on the wall whenever i go out and slips back behind the jam if he gets nervous. i didnt know they could get so big.