im looking at an old article i wrote and all i can think is how did i write that. how did i write that. how did all of that come to me. what was the magic combination of events and chemicals that brought about that combination of words. how did i do that. how. could i ever do it again? 

if i cant i'll be a grain of sand airborne descending to the pile. a blood pump with no divinity, no right to the future, a sad sack of teeth and hair and just the memory of a few moments when i could write like lightning strikes.

A Needed Flip

I am shattered by the difference in my words between the last couple of years and the period around 2010. This simply cannot continue. I hold in my hand my future, minted in 1986, adorned with the likeness of a wood toothed slave owner. I'm going to toss it into the air and depending on what I see next I will embark on a vision quest (recommended by 9 out of 10 optometrists) or rinse with shotgun mouthwash. However, if the coin lands on it's side I will go to sleep and expect the world to pour its answer into my dreams.

And the toss...