And the new moon is here as well. I feel like I must specify.
I did it. I promised myself I wouldn’t, and then I did it anyway.
I decided rather quickly to try and channel my paternal grandmother today through this 1949 typewriter and it got messy.
Sounds crazy right? Well fuck me, wait until you read the pages. I went for a wild ride. Fucking time warp through the commercials and programming of old, and sickening all the way. By the time I came out of the trance I had 30 some-odd pages and a huge fucking migraine. Perhaps it is because I haven’t eaten.
I tell myself I like to fast. That it’s a natural part of surrender and it feeds a different type of story. I suppose in many ways that is true.
So many ways I wished not to head towards today. Thank you, Grandma. Sincerely… I know that this is all presented as a form of my previous thoughts and convictions. Lots of last-minute letting go today. Wanted to get this space right for the arrival of the Sun. Big Leo energy. New moon. What the fuck is this all supposed to mean (if one is to be empathetic towards an author’s words)? Just know that it’s time for new beginnings. Tabula Rasa. Embrace it.
Thank you for loving me real, Grandma. You know you were awesome, and I think so too. Who the hell else cares? I like that you spoiled me. Favored me in situations even when it was wrong. Gave me everything I ever wanted. Always tucked me in and read me books, and put up with my videogames, and Lazer Tag and toys being all over the place. Heck, you bought me most of it. For which I am grateful. Grandma, you spoiled me right.
You always made my stay on the weekends as comfortable as possible. Every weekend, without fail. Always told me that you loved me. Always called me into the kitchen when you wished to know if the gravy was seasoned right. It was always perfect. And I know you left the salt out of the batch until I showed up, so we could throw it in together, and come to a consensus. And you told everyone that the only one who could make good pasta was me, never saying that it was because the water needs to be salted just at the moment of boiling, so that the water first comes to a boil fast, and then the fresh pasta only goes in for a touch of time.
For this is this what the guests who were drinking and laughing really wanted. And they always came back for more. This is why they came back, Grandma. Because of you. Because you couldn’t be in the movies but you imagined it happening anyway, just the way it unfolded. And it was marvelous. Hard on others, but marvelous for me. As selfish as that sounds. It doesn’t tarnish my personal appreciation for anyone or anything. I see this the way I wish to, now. All is One. You are awesome.
That said, I say to the world: I’m sorry for not being there for you when I said I would. You deserve to hear this and more. The world deserves to hear this. Because I failed you, world. And this doesn’t amount to anything now, I know. I suppose it’s either I do nothing about it, or I keep on trying. Trying in my own obsessive way.
I understand my grandmother better than most, and she let me know that today. From afar. And a bunch of stuff came out that I still haven’t been able to wrap my head around quite yet, but it was like surfing the cosmic consciousness through the typewriter. Pure darshan.
You may disagree, and that’s fine. I won’t know because it appears we are experiencing radio silence. Which is strange for Mercury, if Mercury is really here. Yes, it is August 10th, Mercury is here.
Anyway, never mind that. As that will only get you thinking more. Be happy, knowing at the very least there are a number of pages to read. Headache-inducing, blood-sugar dropping pages.
Do yourself a favor now: Take off the writer’s cap and start to calm yourself down, and then put on the reader’s cap, as this is all just a divine play. And a good day for theater, is all this is, if ever there was. So enjoy it. As much as you can. Every day. Down to the last drop. If you can, do it with the ones you love. If not, I’ll be here. I promise.
Much Love,
-W.V.Carleton