Dearest Readers of Talkinggrid,
Thank you for continuing to show up here at this looney outpost in the sea of internet possibility. I know the space around us is vast but if you will simply, “come under the shadow/ of this red rock with me…”
Hah!
Today’s theme:
The Enthusiasm to Thrive
Life rains, storms, and twitches of lightening… Rings OUT! FIRE! You run. Hands up. Fingers in the sky like a man about to be executed in a Velasquez painting. Almost, screaming… It is dark. No one helps. You blaze. The flames lick your face. You are engulfed, yet… you silence yourself and… you exhale. Then…
You stop. You whirl around and gracefully remove the blazing blue and white fan print cotton kimono over your cheerful silk robe. You land on a specially prepared canvas strip. Nude. The audience inhales inward, joy. They never thought they’d see you so… expansive, free. You leave behind a massive streak of ash and flame colored pigment, smears of blood colored pigment in some natural oily binder … YOU are an artist, deep in the midst of a primal performance, a body painter in a near future art gallery on a barge somewhere off in a space previously unknown and now happening hotspot. The Premium… juice is flowing from easy-access fountains.
Imbibe!
Here we see ghosts dancing with Madams made of Smoke and Leprechauns coming onto Mermaids, “I see you dig wearing green, like me… May I buy you a pint?” Says a dashing short man in mossy leather trousers and a bent felt hat, from another era. She smiles, down at her new suitor, and vows to sing for him a song he will remember, just after she sips the Margarita which sits before her, efficiently delivered by an invisible bartender, known for his quick hands and heavy pours.
Hah!
You wake up and discover that your wallet is gone. You never meant to have that second drink. But the girl, with the well-read lips, swam over and offered nothing, well she just looked thirsty and you ordered, “The Best for The Lady!” Feeling buoyant. The rest is written in sperm whale juice, shipped via Spain to the orient, after processing in a plant on the east side of Los Angeles.
Energy? Steam? Hot air, wind, sun… what is gets you out of bed? What is your urgent duty? Who sings to you? Do you LOVE someone? Are you happy just to feel the wind kiss your faces as you enter the cozy entrails of the subway or are you the one laughing just because you have the freedom to spend the morning doing dishes and putting away the laundry? Ah, lucky domestic person with a home to love, to decorate, celebrate, and brighten the space between rushing and silence.