A neon "open" sign hangs above my head, suspended in the corner of my right eye. It loams, a gory red. It is subdued, especially in the context of a coffee shop window open 24 hours. The sign scarcely rests and has lost its vigor to blaze like only the vivacity of electric red should.
I'm sipping rejuve tea. The hot liquid burns my mouth slightly and warms my throat. I want to dunk my entire body in the steamy stew of herbs until I dissolve. I could dissolve or I could float. It doesn't matter either way. I will still be apart of this huge soup.
Sam and I were talking the other night about his brother. Sam described himself as having a textbook approach things, where as his brother provided a more "accessible" explanations of his ideas. I wasn't quite sure what he meant by that. --- I would guess that "textbook person" would describe someone who has a well thought, drawn out explanation to and might include references to other thinkers who have insights relevant to the idea being expressed. Basically, someone good at writing college essays. I think I'll look up what others have to say about the definition...
(10 minutes later)
Okay, I couldn't find a satisfactory definition on the web. Next I seem him I'll ask him what he means.
Hay, there is my old therapist in the sitting at a round table wearing studio headphones. It is a sign that I should start repeating positive affirmations to myself-- something I stopped doing, but helped while in practice.
Well, my hour of writing is up. I'm going to try this everyday.
Peace, love and all the flowers in British Columbia.