Uncensored Belligerance

I was having the most wonderful day the other day. The sun was shining a bit brighter than the day before, I am sure of it. I had just received a healthy donation to my cause from several longtime friends and supporters. As I crossed the street I was able to help 12 separate elderly bridge players across a seven lane highway (where they were going, who knows? I did not question their motives. I simply helped along). All of this was satisfying. If one more thing had not happened to me that day, I could have gone home happy. Happy-ish. Happy-er. I watched a fly die. It landed on my nose. Puked one last time (as flies do when they land and test for food) and said, "Please remember to do a thing or two, though they do not know you. And seek a place to dance, whenever you have the chance." Then it died. I kept it on my nose for a few minutes. Wondering at it. Where did it come from with my message? How did it get those words for me? And how did it know my tendencies for the wonderfully kinesthetic?

I don't know. But I care.

And twelve pages pass by. Without anything written on them. So I dream up a beginning for them, and continue until what's writ comes along. In the beginning all kinds of things happen. Not a thing or two is out of place. All is born from natural inclinations, tested by a stress of life, and then all continues on.

All is worn and worn and worn. And some is won. Some is fun. Some is disastrous and that is known.

Another day has passed this way, and all mention need be made of its occurrence.

Unconscious response.