dotcom....
Now, i 'write' in other places...
Only one person knows them all.
And all they are, is, everything....
But before I get back to perhaps one day riffing upon reality...and i must concentrate on one particular 'space'...
Be clear, in the sublime gorgeous paradise of a year 2020 which began with monsoons all February which caused the summer bracken that year to be far taller than ever before i haver seen...
And then the most sublime 100 days of unbroken sunshine ever in a spring starting mid March that year...
My 'friend'.. whom i offend 100 times before breakfast if possible with our sardonic insulting quips.. "je t'adore.." - you would have to be here...
We alone know what the rhythm of life must be, and it so happens it is the rhythm to which i stream of consciousness type...
Except pure true 'performance art' is so obscure it is daft especially if one performs quite 'in the moment' at 4 or 5 different locations...
But this is the rhythm.... and purest poetry i think almost ever... but then you would have to have the new best est friend ever with whom to joust ...
"Mav its about YOU how did he know 35 years ago he was writing about you 'face down with your head in the plate'..after you've waddled back from your Swiss bank singing Amazing Grace.....
"And when all around us were moaning and feeling sorry for themselves. he gave us this for free in the second most paradisical year in history just that, last..."
"But then, my man...mern..... he just rit songs about the oppressed and erroneously ink arse errated.... she actually married one... there is only one real deal.... write that on your Che t shirt....and smoke it"
