sun dappled

dear audience,*

this morn i woke at four am with the perfect personal add lilting in the ethers of my nethermores. it read something like,

"enigmatic 30somethin' freckeled american seeks lithe hearted temptress for moonlit terrestrial sorjournes"... (shpell?)

something like that. i can't remember it exactly. you know how it is. the light before dawn holds more magic than any wizard will ever consume. so, i managed to sleep again, which was lovely. and then my son came up around dawn and wanted to chat, but i let him draw on the wall so i could sleep. one of the advantages of living in a renovated 19th century shoe factory is that writing on the walls is kosher. he drew a dragon fly flying into my dream catcher to help carry me away from bad dreams that are caught there. and then he drew a "super man dream catcher." the kid is 4 1/2, as i've mentioned, and his ability to work abstract ideas is phenomenal. He already speaks in basic computer geek terms, reads at an American 3rd grade level, can philosphize on the levels of Christ and Ghandi, and is trust worthy around power tools.

There are a lot of amazing kids around today, and thank god, because we, as a planet, need these brilliant little wisebeings to grow into peacemakers and healers. when i watch him play, i pray into the space between us. i pray that he will grow strong with a heart filled with confindence and virtue, and a mind filled with tools to help him in any adventure, and a body fit for the course set before him, and that anyone who pushes meth his way will be immediatly crushed by a falling anvil. this i pray.

so, then i got up. eventually. part of glosrious life of a cripple is the occasional perfect day. When you've got friends, food, family, sunshine, security, and a general lack of disabling pain, you really look at life with loving eyes.

when i finally got to my shower, i did my ritual Shiatzu self-massage, and the raking out the scars in my legs and back with a giant brissle brush. I would give a dominatrix a run fer her mohair. I usually end with searing hot water followed by ice cold water (Minnesota in February cold - cold that makes fish wanna get out and walk.), but today i felt good, so i did it twice. cranking up the hot until it stung and switching spots until every inch of my flesh was beet red, and then i switched to the cold, and froze my muscles to my skeleton. for the final moment of truth, i bent forward and pulled my ass cheeks apart so that the artic wet raged against my lowest oriface like an Alaskan Glacier Fall. i don't know if anyone else has experienced this, maybe i will find out, but the sensation is like a physical affirmation of exhistance. i press my forhead into the cheap plastic shower wall and shout "i am alive!" again and again as the cold takes me nearer my breaking point. and then i stand and let the water hit my lower back, i feel my kidneys release, then my bladder, and a heavy stream of piss evacuates my shrunken cock. it's like forcing your body to check its emergency systems. Your heart, lungs, muscles, brain -- everything freaks when it gets hit with cold water, but if you can focus on calm steady breathing, it is actually quite enjoyable. the Fin's are right. i'm going to build a sauna in my bedroom closet.

*so sorry about the spelling, but i would rather write fast than second guess. none of this has been edited, so please maintain a first draft opinion of this work. it's like quick sketches - you can't judge it against a finished product. so goes my insecurity.