Conversely

I will not be the hero of international relations - no- world peace will not come from me

I may not be the selfless first responder, though I did ace the curriculum (both written and practical portions)

I will in all likelihood not be mother Earth's savior, and the rhinos will indeed go extinct

I am certainly not my bright-eyed younger self's hero, for I have made no genre-defying hits, and not once has Letterman gotten off his pretentious ass to shake my hand

But I can handle a spilled cup of water, a dry pajama top, a reassurance that things can be good again, or, that at least the attempt to make them so will be worth the effort.

The worst part of life

A sharp cry from her bedroom,

More babyish than she normally sounds now,

Confused and denuded, sheets soaked,

Working to right the cup with wet hands,wet nose, wet face, blurry half asleep eyes,

Between heaving, betrayed, embarassed sobs:

I was thirsty

Post

You can route audio like so many trains as they pass through the mic cable, to an old laptop with a semi-legally-obtained copy of Pro Tools, to a wav file, to an mp3 file, to an email sent to an old lover, who has married and has kids who play soccer at the park you used to cycle past on ambitious mornings.

If you're not paying attention, you might send a track to an output that does not exist, or, that leads nowhere. So the original signal is silent. But if you have already set up part of that track to go through say, a reverb effect, that reverb will continue getting a portion of the signal. so what comes through is a soft, beautified echo of something you can no longer hear.

'Satan and his legions' is a term I heard far too often as a child. Too delicate to watch a pg-13 but let the Sunday school teachers talk all they want about an invisible horde of demons, all of whom think of nothing but my destruction...

Perhaps they're the dark matter we hear so little repeated so often about. Only know it exists from the force it exerts on us. Makes up most of everything. The fundamental skeleton of the universe.

I can see the appeal of Lucifer's plan. If it was say, equivalent to the rest of nature's goings on, and Christ's agency akin to human self-consciousness and all its rich, interesting, but God-awful results.

So the return to childlike nature would be yes, a surrender to God, or an aligning of our will with his maybe, but also a reconciling with, or at least understanding of Satan who never wanted to part ways in the first place.

And that feels like a fitting yin yang thing. The perfection of a snake eating a mouse whole or something.

I love this

Sometimes when I start playing the piano, my daughter will drop what she's doing and start running in circles around the couch. Like this is her contribution to the performance. And when a song ends she takes a break just long enough to drink some milk, and then asks what's next on the set list.

Mom is the void,
Mostly ignored,
Unknowable life-imparting ways,
The baseball stadium of space between the golf ball-sized 'stuff'.
(Or is it merely mom getting restless, what we call stuff?)
Dad is the pattern, and also mom's child of course.
Look what I can do!
And void is form and form is void and all that

Sweeping

It's her melody,
This dried lakebed at twilight,
Red leaves on my porch