A kite shaped piece of styrofoam topples itself across the sky like a dream instead of an environmental nightmare. 

 

For a moment everything means something. The ugly is beautiful. The earth has the evening off from our miscare. Original definitions slip away. Our memories smear. Nobody has to be who they’ve always been. We can be anyone.

My lungs burn a little.

 

Somewhere, far away there is a man on a stage singing. I have loved him for a long time. When I think about the ways he loves and does not love me back, it does not hurt.

It's just a beautiful song.

A storm is coming. I scan the license plates around me for hidden messages from God. Everyone’s car is in need of a car wash. But mine especially. I have bumper stickers that read “empathy,” and “I break for wildflowers.” I don’t. But my heart does.

 

Kurt Vonnegut’s words’ flash through me, “There's only one rule that I know of, babies-God damn it, you've got to be kind.” I cry and think of my family. I cry and think of cheese and mustard sandwiches. I cry and pound my fists on the steering wheel because everything is alive and coursing through me. Urgent. Insisting on itself.

 

It's like this after I come out of a depressive episode. I sleep and upon waking am converted to life and the living of it as if it's the first time. I want to preach to everyone; don’t you see, don’t you see, don’t you see? It's all so precious, just like this. I am preaching to myself. I breathe and ponder the precise degree to which I may be out of touch these days. 

 

I decide, like I always do, to not care too much. But like always, I do sill care. A little.

I will *try* to make you laugh. But admittedly, I have friends who are better at this. I keep them as close to me as possible. I'll share them when I can.

I will tell you about the stuff I'm selling. Not today. But sometimes. Some of its art. All of it is stuff I've worked hard to make meaningful and deepen your connection to this life, yourself, and each other. If you are ino the pulse, heartbreak, joke and ecstasy of this whole existence shebang– that’s good, because I try to sneak these things  into every little thing i offer. 

 

I suppose that’s all for now. Oh, I’ll probably also mention my kids occasionally. They are scraggly, golden hearted, hilarious sages. And my dog Tuesday. He is a muppet.

 

I will meet you here in the Chaosmos (chaos + cosmos) and the remembering. We won't pretend to have all the answers but we will touch our connection that never leaves, no matter how often we forget it exists.

Stick around?

Yan