[to be updated with more shortly, editing photos and microwaving coffee]
Met like the cutest girl ever on a footpath hike trail today.
I think she was in the Tour de France! And kept riding,
all the way to Albany to get Steamed Ham. Didn't even
drink a sip of water the entire way,
I was like woah!because I downed all the water carryon before I even knew it.
Well I put in miles lately. I took in a cat that has one eyeball and grew to become very sweet.
Lots has happened. I'd been through a lot and 2020 was some rocketship trip into a proverbial wall.
But that wall was blasted right through.
So here I am.
I've been doing a lot. Not releasing anything.. Figuring out tying album pieces together
and it's OK with me that it is taking a couple of years to do that. I don't want to look back
and have to many should haves and I am figuring out or learning lots of export
touches, juggled in with just plain life-stuff.
I'm not singing untold croons about materials readied to publish. Sometimes I have to look back,
an the more I look back it's like the further back it all goes, to hemplinen books, very light paper and decorative outsoles of fancy jackets. Everything seems throwaway but I want something special. It's a no-time sort of instant gratification world.
Earlier at nite's beginning I had brought some storebought food from the inner cafe, where I heated it up in a microwave, and watched the bulbous moon of a Werewolve's delight yet a vampire's fright! As it sat and had risen at the hilltop tip. I had some sweet and sour chicken with rice and what seemed like chives. It was chilly and a man who kept saying God Bless You Thank You to everybody pushed past with his cart. Only 26 minutes earlier I snuck a shower from the walk past the park,
then hit to the highway.
Everything published is of its own world.
I can't change or update things to today's language, character or expectation standards.
It's its own world of suspended disbelief. Or is that belief?
Is it scarier to take a chance of total truth, than it is to know
that in towns immediate there are wandering belly-button pokers
going around with the strongest of pointing fingers?
Well, well!
I don't come back here often because things have been busy. Life tooks its own subdue. I was going to transfer this all over to Wordpress. Hell I used to even have a Xanga journal, but it looks like this will still be some shelf for a clutter of stuff.
The foxes of the night have made way to strictly across the roadway, too. One is in heat. And we all know how that is.
I almost give up on humanity, because of ________ __ _____~~
but there are always things to do.
The World outside of social media is elicit freedom and much less stressful.
See that with less smears of makeup and bent, distortion, phoniness and clud is a kind of
ugliness and muddy printing that scrapes bark into boats for chipmunks, crickets
and the moss-close mushrooms they feast on.
Push that forward the world of digital con is a phase. It's sweat and sunburn,
and bruised up toe-knuckles that are succulent appeal.
This is my favorite spot of the stone trail, where the bridge dips off and it's so parallel. Lined up, sits just geometric. This was visage in the
Hecate video, with video footage rather than a photograph. Great site to keep coming back to! You can get down there to the below and swim a little up ahead.
Ask me not why I imagined a Clydesdale horse racing then leaping from the top of this. I mean, it'd really go sailing on outta there. You can't cackle at a horse running to a gallop then launching from a giant waterfall steep. It's bad business. Also some lady cussed at me when walking infront of my motorbike, as I was in motion, and if I was a Clydesdale, I'd of launched her off the waterfall. She'd really go sailing on outta there!
This sun eyeball's walking around with its top off.
Off to the castle
That houses the
Metronome
Of solid time
&shale steel bone
Where the
Ladders climb
Made of herb claw
Vine
And the castle steps
Tell to Roam.
●□
You'll see many things
Like ancient bowls
Of old Ocean carved
Deep swimming holes
Where these phantom
Steps do move.
+
There are Frog Spas
Built
In wooden steps
And Angel Ghosts
Who wear no fear
And Less
Built into the
Side wall's Groove.
○■
If you turn the path
To the high wall Right
You're led to stairs
8 turns in height
And you climb, climb
Climb to
Steps so high
That level to your eye
Come Golden Falcon's
Flight.
■□○●
(Pt,1, a side adventure of seeking spirit,
While the world was at Apocalypse.
•°• •°•
Poem,photos 07.2021.
IthacaBleeds now,,, but the Serene Places hold strong.)
~TheRoamingGhost, Very much Spurious
If I was Architect of the Universe, this is what a rollerskate track would look like.
It feels nice to not be limited to 10-photo posts. This is a series! Series draw out. Social media stifled me, it did! It's a headfucker, and I can talk a lot of spit and gunk about it, and I will! But I'll do more of that later sometime.
This is the bottom, where you can swim at. Good 'ol Strawhat dipped in there once, but little angry children kicked stones from the top. You can't see the bottom from the top, so I don't know if they were trying to hit her or what. Me, I always suspected there was a council of strong-jawed Badgers around that curve. The kind that obsessively buy lottery tickets, and push around broken clock parts in wheel barrels. Turns out its just shale, soot and more waterfall round the bend.
Shaleform history is a ceaseless practicality. A closer look.
The statutes for life without a thrill should not be exceeded. For scale, a dog walks their pet, and the stepcase is stll spectacular years later, decades later and floods later and also in between.
Butt of Doom. Or: your face - the editor.
The 'ol Parliamentary Flower trick
Frog Sauna holds up to 36 frogs. Mud baths and room separators. Act quick.
These are the guantlets passing Daisyville. Don't call it a mild extreme. It was the beginning.
menacing ovulation.. of beauty!
These trails are kind of ^%*#$!
unless you're inspired
The first time I met a miser I already wanted to be alone again. They would, in the future, become Simps and Thots. Oh, The Humanity I reckoned to say. What of a dirty mess they made the globular appeal.
Some child of the Gulf War would always visit this tree, speculation, and call it "Little 'ol Saddaam Hussein." When it was just a baby tree, it was called Nebuchadnezzar. People really have a lot to say about trees.
Around 28% of Olympians will experience leg cramps. Here's how you can help this!
I didn't have an answer about leg cramps, because that's none of my business, man!
This spot is great to walk barefoot across.
A glance, of life itself
862 treasures. 862 waves.
Probably ~862 songs I'm working at.
862 honest songs, and maybe 12 more
that are fables.
gushing
Little did he realize that later that night he would
somehow manage to cut the roof of his mouth
by the edible act of merely chewing on a pierogi.
Another miracle of the world performed,
one nobody wanted to have happen!
Especially me!
I've gotta walk through this gauntlet. This Gauntlet, Gauntlet. This Gauntlet, Gauntlet, Gauntlet.
They replaced the old soap dispensers that drooled violet gunky soap which smelled of bubblegum. Just like when they knocked the Commons pavilions down to change it into the generic, generia also grandstanded into to the smaller things like public park hand soap. And box-stores, also, ever erected yet all things change. Walk through the gauntlet and don't copout.
Rawness will get you into bolster but should you survive it, the mass mind
you still see the better things like small animals feasting on strange mushrooms.
And they themselves acting rickety, inspired, energized, spurious.
7;27;2021
and now, finally, too, much like a Siamese circumstance come to unclog the milch and residue of clud from the wicked detriment of the world,
a poem from the Instagram post of some of the images of this series, placed up and above.. since I am shadowbanned on there which sort of blows, frankly. Between you and me I wouldn't mind if that site cluds into a dust of nothing and never returns, because it is moving society backward, and it's algorithms are all fuckled. You gotta push narrative and wokittyism, which is spiritual or soul misconduct, to pass through the algorithm. I'm not kidding, the world collective mind was not prepared to handle the endorphin-cataclysm that is social media!
Woshie-Poshie, I but the spell on thee Social Media in
Entirety,
Unto the Faux Witches of Wokey
Confusion
unto mis-using symbols
to attention-infusion
Woshie-Poshie,
may think it's a joke
But from here on out
is the Crumbling of Woke
and those who wear
Alchemy on their Sleeve
May come to learn
to cease to deceive
We've seen your buttcracks
and mural smears
but had stopped at the Abyss
due to social fears
And make motions of
clumping
all you can't understand
as some patriarchal schema
envious of Man,
now even I
look back to when
I thought the Goddess upsurge
could be a friend.
No,No,No!
Now I see,
They are loud boisterous
mind children, lacking
response-ability,
Playing games with Sigils
Or Sabrina-Shows,
or Fantasy books
right up their nose,
Well it would be fine,
Could be Divine
If they did now scour so deep
into dangerous minds.
Woshie-Poshie,
So now those who knew
to avoid the bumrush,
the constant few,
Seeing what turned
from mall-fairing hipsters
now collecting some cosplay acting
of miracle whiskers,
We've got to know,
about these roastie crazies
whose claims are "cosmic"
but deeds are hazy.
That is no "New Age"
and what may it be,
those who only want half
of some land-mind of the free.
I hope that doesn't seem negative! There are light and shadow pathways to contend to, and that expanse of nature and merging with such does offer joy. I can't say enough, however, that lines are split it appears, so deeply, in this crackling of earth's core of consciousness that 'Kali-Yuga' had manifest.
I am afraid to go too specific into the materialism-worship overload, and for that which is a de-evolution process of the propensity of bodies in which inner dialogue is not active or functioning.
From the book Angel Tech: A Shaman's Guide to Reality Selection by Antero Alli, I am reminded:
What can be done, unto speaking to robots, programmed to take you out of the game completely, or that robots exist, in habit, or for as not to stray out of repetitive pattern psychosis called normative reality. There is no convincing, except for reprogramming the Self. Akin to that, finding these people really do hate their enemies much so the media complex programmed them to be movie-goers and band-seers, to political agents following the projection-process of "knowing" everything of those they see as some sort of _____ist or anti-_____, etc. It does lead to cannibalism! Of a social-grouping-kind. Strange to think questioning it at all makes you their enemy of severity; Banned, Blocked, Blockading, Exited from their Tribal-Rules, in which the far-outcome to be the modern PMRC of life.
Awakening far achieves self-challenge committed, over wokeism and those who are swayed will not come out of that trance, so often, they see what navigator is there beyond the machine,
or which neural doctor is there within the robot.
It has set back a lot of opportunity,
or even my own optimism, for a while,
for I did not fit the mold and yet 8-10 years ago, would-have.
Cognitive Dissonance!
Imagination, Playfulness, a hope-to-innocence, however, remains,
and I had seen evil people and evil deeds, particularly, in the last several years. I did get bitter from it, possibly could be changed forever. Some people always 'get off the hook,'
but fitting this new script of being unforgiveable or the un-listened to, now, it comes to you and to only you, you become all you've got, to really turn it around. Then may I so I won't hate like they do, the army of corporate rebels, of the media-populars. It could be better to take a while to be figured out, or not figured out at all, looking for at least, the honesty behind all these programs.
Nature magic is very real. The misrepresented 'occult' however, those 'playing with' images ideas of all the such, I should tend to dig into writings that kept me interested very much, examples that these people will go insane, because the Heart! The Core! The inner blueprints they are not working to define, and we fear for that, for them... yet those who could help, they keep away. They are "fucking white males," well you've done it now, rejecting brothers or good omen. They will further divide, and be pushed along by media corporations and "change yourself by tomorrow" cliques unto which the father of history is abandoned and the mother of Nurturement is seen as weak to these people's eyes. Yet gentle woman and humble man can carry on, in solace, in silence, probably in small towns or mountain reserves, or communities where the 'movement' has not eaten people or rusted away companionship.
The city here, for example, is bleeding.
The poem above, in this post, though, tries to say about sanctuary nature, where inner resolve or feedback can be found, so it is a heart-pulse, and something less tragic, than an entirety of youth gone astray for listening to their inner genetic heart rather than some furious beast internal under the stamps of media impression, statistic lies, and more than anything else a very bratty and "me!me!me!" crusade of self-worship without wisdom elders or actual archetypes to hone into, because the state is the parent, and the new "Gods" or "New Faiths" have not gone through a cycle of building a dependable creation story. These are new religions, and the louder they do become, the more of a reverse that people like myself, at least, come to believing their ways. It reverses it all, because why should you listen to angry ones who in the long run would want you dead, kept from self-progress, or in a world of status-points and being stuck rather than admitting self-change and attribute change can be built, through rigorous trial and self-insight honest enough to have to be reborn each day, in a way, to win daily battles against sorcerers of fear and emotional "stuckedness."
To see them locked into a trance, so deep, is a weary thing.
and it comes to being forever-convinced of their convictions,
I want nothing of that!
See to it, the pursuit, still, is Imagination, A Reprisal of Innocence
(which people confuse as stupid, or uncool for being playful with life)
& Strength for going one's Own Path.
20,20 was a sacrifice absolutely better left behind.
Those floods may be over by now, the cleanup is committed to.
and in what is called the 'Great Cull,' it feels strange to exist
in a time of that possibility. I wish we or they would have researched it more.
But they just went for it, went right for it, without question,
and generations to come, genetic damage, all of that like,
makes it a dent in time, and all of this, a part of history we will look back at,
and wonder
what were they thinking?
I feel refreshed into the last several days, however, and a rekindling of soul,
or spirit or 'tapping in' to fulfilling work seems more esteemed.
That is something that has fought me dearly, against, for quite some while.
But the location of an outside source of enthusiasm or finding a romanticism
with life itself, without sorrow!, allows a recognition that miracle is possible.
But also that if you believe in those practices, or insights, it is to be accepted that
the normative vibration of the collective world, this must be remembered,
will not want to get it, or care to hide that they judge you or even are snide to you,
for believing what they think are "stupid possibilities.''
Because Childish Wonder or the Imagination, younger and younger in age,
they replace playing with politics, or getting along with bewilderment or embedding a chip
onto the shoulder of Youth. That is criminal, and yet I'd have to higher somebody else more
"qualified in sympathy points" to say that possibility. Even they would be outnumbered,
Yet there will be a reverse, or revolt, in some generation, that they ripped wonderment
out of the adult and also the child.
& So a decade or more later some of the perspectives hold just as tight regarding a weariness
against Dogma which changes its suits so often, many times putting some on inside-out.
You cannot hold down and push onto a werewolf in the living room and have expectation it will act like a puppy dog or not bite, devour, lash back.
& right there, the
Adept learns from Divine Nature!
