Epistle. To: Lady Kimono Clan

Perhaps there are no suitable answers to build upon. Perhaps it's just an intellectual curiosity that happens to be strange and gets appreciated each day like the sunlight over the trees. Or how remarkably similar we can feel from one day to the next without even thinking about it. Did we make it that way? Is it built in? Maybe it was just the tortured infected springtime and the glacial pace of recovery that now governs my days. How long does it take to be well? Isn't that a stupid question to even ask? However when that distance of loneliness shows on occasion and begins tossing its weight around and there's no place to hide because it knows where you are, I'm frankly afraid of it, and am conversely, drawn to it like a small bit of magnetic ore. How does it settle in? A chilly ghost-like presence. Now-  here's a niche market to visit - a porn site dedicated to warm ghosts! Yea not only would we show up but there also might be a party! Usually though I look about and see change as the culprit. Which is like a panic attack whistling past and I worry full well that I'll be the one around to live through the change. I mean I accept change. It's the currency formed from all life on the one planet we know about. How do you trade with anything else? Let's face it - the world is in charge! Shifting viewpoints. High tides/ low tides. Storm days/ calm days. Sweet dreams/ drunks singing outside the windows in the dead-night. The stuff of nature grows between and like the fortune cookie fortune said opportunity knocks so pay attention. But there's all these grubby little fears that for one moment show up and just as quickly leave and undermine and fuck up my day. It's like I'm being chased and the only thing I can do to get away from them is to move away and step on that thought - even if that thought and the stepping away were irrational - looking at it and being scared shitless from nothing to speak of -  but also to get the fuck out and to move away physically from it like a yelp from adapt or die like a herd of beasts might do seeing a fire break out across the water hole and begin to spread across the old savannas of consciousness. Do you document it and leave it go and say these are twisted behaviors? Where's the serotonin levels? But in truth - and you do know me - like a warm ghost site! - alas why don't you friend me? - I do prefer an orderly scheme to the way things work. I maintain a time. A practical. A spiritual. An outlook or a leveling throughout the sunrise/sunset thing. I don't even know what that means. And I don't care what it means. And I don't care what it means to anyone else. Where it comes down to is a question. Being scared? Or not being scared? I walk past a yard in the neighborhoods every day. And there's a wagon or cart-like toy in that yard that never moves. It's a peculiar point of interest and I'm drawn to staring at it. How do you look at it? That toy I mean. Maybe it's just flotsam and jetsam. Who's out there to play with it? And if it was just left there, where it is, day after day, no one moving it, how come was it left alone? For me it's been that way for over a half-century and counting.